


"prompt"ing for something more

by clarkescrusade (alindy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: All oneshots, F/M, and drabbles, with differing side pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/clarkescrusade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of my smaller bellarke oneshots/drabbles all written from prompts given to me on tumblr - first chapter is a table of contents</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> I got tired of so many oneshots, decided to condense them here for organizational purposes.

**2\. Closed Door {1,104 words} --** Bellamy hits the 'door closed' button on Clarke in the elevator; revenge soon follows

 **3\. The First Kiss {929 words}** \-- Bellamy has been ignoring Clarke; Clarke finds out why

 **4. Firsts and Lasts {1,095 words}**  -- Clarke's dying from a gaping chest wound and makes a point to remind Bellamy where exactly her eyes are

 **5\. Don't Say It {1,320 words}** \-- Clarke is sick, and Bellamy makes it his mission to keep her in bed

 **6\. The Plan {4,180 words}** \-- Clarke's friends, specifically Monty, try desperately to get Bellamy and Clarke together

 **7\. Share With A Soulmate {869 words} --** Bellamy and Clarke share a Coke. Their friends are amused by the words on the side of the can

 **8\. Teach Me, Tutor {985 words}** \-- Clarke tutors Bellamy with math...but he may not actually need it

 **9\. Sky Box Tattoos {4,362 words}** \-- Clarke and Murphy own the tattoo place on the second floor and Bellamy owns the flower shop below

 **10\. Views and Distractions {1,343 words}** \-- Clarke and Bellamy relieve some pent up energy at the gym together.

 **11\. Battlefield Tactics {1,160 words}** \-- On his third tour, Bellamy gets injured. Clarke is the army medic that helps out

 **12\. The Notebook {1,748 words}** \-- Bellamy accidentally takes a stranger's notebook

 **13\. Class Discussions {1,667 words}** \-- Bellamy and Clarke get kicked out of a lecture for arguing

 **14\. Adventures in Sober Babysitting {1,705 words}** \-- Bellamy comes home to find all of his friends wasted

 **15\. Chocolate Volcano { 973 words}** \-- Clarke has a horrible day and heads to her favorite bar

 **16\. Diner Distractions {1,056 words}** \-- Clarke’s always drawing Bellamy and suddenly Bellamy wants to see what she’s doing in that sketchbook of hers

 **17\. Between The Stacks {2,214 words}** \-- Bellamy keeps bailing on Miller’s invites to parties to go to the library

**18\. Reunions {2,002 words}** \-- Clarke answers Bellamy's craigslist ad for a date to his High School reunion

**19\. Proposals and Missteps {1,667 words}** \-- Bellamy's attempts to propose to Clarke keep being ruined by their friends

 **20\. that one where they meet at the park {657 words}** \-- Clarke likes to draw Bellamy during her lunch breaks at the park

 


	2. Closed Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I saw you trying to hit the “door close” button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we’re stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don’t know what to say other than “you started it” AU

“Hold the door!” Clarke hastily grabbed the last piece of paper that had slipped from her brief case, shoving it into the bag and only wincing slightly at the crumpling sound that followed. She ran as best as she could in her high heels, feeling her ankle give away slightly as she threw her hand in the door just in time, noticing with aggravation how the finger of the lone man inside was hovering right over the ‘door close’ button. “Wow, thanks for that very  _valiant_  effort.”

“I have a meeting,” he replied nonchalantly, only then looking over at her. His eyes trailed up and down, a smirk falling on to his lips as he met her eyes. “We can’t all rely on our long blong hair and baby blue eyes to make up for being late.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed, anger pulsing through her at the words. Being a top female doctor in the field of neurosurgery meant she’d dealt with her fair share of men assuming things by the way she looked, but it didn’t make it any easier, specifically when the stupid idiot didn’t even  _know_  her.

“You know what, you’re like  _so_  right. Silly me… so blonde and oblivious.” Clarke reached forward, slapping her hand on every button she could reach while smirking back at him. As more and more lit up to red, she took a sinister sort of satisfaction from the groan the guy emitted next to her. “You were on floor 32, right? I’m sure it won’t take that long. Look! We’re already on five!”

“I’ve never hated someone so much within the first five minutes of meeting them.”

“Trust me,” Clarke replied, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. “The feeling is mutual.”

“You’re going to be late for your meeting too, you know.”

“Oh yea, but the satisfaction of making you late for yours is worth it.” Clarke leaned her back against the side of the elevator, releasing a soft sigh. She was really too tired for this. After running on practically only coffee for days and having not seen her own bed for just as long, standing in this elevator across from the, admittedly attractive but altogether infuriating, dark-haired stranger was just too much. She  _wanted_  to be throwing her bare feet up onto her coffee table and catching up on Game of Thrones in her sweatpants, but she needed this funding. The sweatpants would just have to wait.

The stranger grunted as the door opened and closed again, twisting his head toward her and making one of the most disgusted faces she had ever seen.

“You started it!”

“Oh, real mature.”

“Because judging someone the instant they walk in by her appearance is any more mature?” Clarke watched as the guy rubbed his hand over his face, looking just as tired as she felt. Whether his expression screamed apology or exhausted she couldn’t quite tell, maybe some odd mixture of the two. “I’m here to get funding for a medical trip to India, seeing as I’m one of the top  _neurosurgeons_  in the  _country_  by the way, so hope you feel real great about judging that one.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered out. Clarke wasn’t even all that sure she had actually heard it out loud, but there was something about the twist of his lips that made her sure it was real. He noticed her confused expression, releasing another aggravated sound from his lips and trying again, this time a little louder and clearer. “I’m  _sorry_.”

Clarke sheepishly smiled back. “I’m sorry too.  _Especially_  since we still have ten floors to go.”

“Oh God, seriously princess? That had to be your retaliation?”

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t wait for literally  _thirty_  seconds for a girl who tripped and dropped papers everywhere. A gentleman would have even helped her pick them up.”

“I’m not a gentleman, princess.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t suggesting it.”

“I thought you didn’t want anything just because of the way you looked.” His eyes felt heavy on her, and Clarke pushed herself off of the wall, the whole time meeting his gaze. She straightened her skirt and took a step forward, now right at his side.

“I was hoping more for human decency, but thanks for reminding me that men are pigs and goodness is dead.”

“Aren’t you chipper in the morning.”

“Is it the morning? I barely know time anymore - I’ve been awake for practically three days surviving off of the shittiest coffee in existence,” Clarke responded, turning back toward the continually opening and closing door. “I guess the lack of sleep has hit a chord.”

“Apparently.”

Clarke groaned, feeling the man’s eyes on the side of her face but being entirely too tired to truly care. “I just want to watch my recorded Game of Thrones, eat a pizza, and go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for in this world?”

“You haven’t seen the new Game of Thrones?” he exclaimed. Clarke whipped toward him, slapping her hand out and across his lips.

“Don’t say a word, no spoilers. If you spoil you are dead.” Clarke released her hand slowly, eyes wide as if he might blurt out something the instant her hand left his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I’m an asshole, not Satan. I won’t say a word.” He winked at her over the words, his smirk turning into something filled with amusement that she would very nearly call a smile. The door clicked open, and Clarke looked over to realize they’d finally made their floor.

“Look at that, we made it.”

“Against all odds,” he responded. The stranger held out his hand, eyebrows raised in expectation as she looked wearily over. “I’m Bellamy Blake, an asshole in elevators when he’s late to meetings.”

“Clarke Griffin, stubborn and childish to those who assume things based on her appearance, gender, or mother. Pleasure to meet you.” She took the hand, giving it a hearty shake before her hand stilled and her eyes widened, a sudden sense of shock gripping her tight. “Wait, Bellamy Blake?”

“Clarke Griffin,” he repeated, the realization hitting at the same time. “You’re my ten o’ clock.”

“Shit,” she hissed, sending a hopeful smile in his direction. “I didn’t just jeopardize my chance at the grant, did I?”

“Ms. Griffin, I’m a  _professional_.” Bellamy smirked over at her, and though Clarke felt like it was strange to think so, there was something oddly thrilling about it. She smiled back, following him to his office.

Even if Bellamy wasn’t entirely professional, Clarke didn’t really mind all that much. She was certainly up for the challenge.


	3. The First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bellarke First Kiss

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Clarke stated, watching her feet as to avoid loud snaps from branches. They had spotted a deer about a half hour ago, and she was certain they would see it again soon. The tension in the air was almost palpable after the words, and Clarke avoided the temptation to look behind to see Bellamy’s face.

“I’ve been busy,” he replied gruffly, a finality in his words, but Clarke wouldn’t be Clarke if she left it at that.

“We’re usually busy  _together_ ,” she flung back, turning around and stopping abruptly to release the words. Bellamy stumbled slightly at the rapid stop, and was aggravated to find himself much closer to Clarke than he wanted to be.

“Let it go, princess,” he grumbled, trying to move past her but she side stepped him, pushing herself into his path.

“What are you hiding from me?” she questioned. Her voice was strong, curious, but there was also an almost desperate nature to it. Clarke could hear it herself, and she had a strange suspicion Bellamy did too. There was a part of herself that felt hurt, hurt because she had actually thought they were getting somewhere and were friends but now it was so clear that maybe it had all been one-sided.

Clarke felt like an absolute  _fool_.

“Since when have you cared?” he demanded, his words low and harsh. It felt like a personal attack, it  _was_  a personal attack, and Clarke bristled at his words. How dare he. How  _dare_  he. They were partners, they were friends, or at least she had thought they were, and here he went being a complete asshole and blaming this on her.

“I have done nothing but cared,” she attacked. If he was going to be an idiot, she wasn’t going to back down and take it. “You have not always been the easiest person to work with Bellamy, but despite everything, we’ve got a pretty good thing going here. We’ve fought together and overcome together and I guess I thought that made us friends but, God, are you proving me wrong.”

“I don’t want to be your friend!” he yelled, cutting Clarke with the phrase and she took a step backward, shocked. Her heart felt like it was breaking, and even though she couldn’t even really remember the last time she had cried, she could feel the tickling at the back of her eyes.

“Oh,” she whispered, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded, how vulnerable she knew she must look. He stepped forward, a look crossing his features that Clarke couldn’t even begin to explain, but she turned away and began walking. “Sorry,” she yelled over her shoulder, pumping it with false cheer.

“Clarke,” Bellamy spoke, his voice sweeter than she had ever heard it, but it didn’t make any sense so she kept moving forward. She knew it was impossible to get entirely away from him, they still had to go back to camp together, but she needed to feel space.

“It’s fine, Bellamy. We’re partners, not friends, just partners.”

  
“Clarke,” he called. Bellamy reached toward her, grabbing her upper arm and turning her toward him. “Clarke,” he repeated, softer.

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Wow, let’s say it again, Bellamy, that makes it better,” Clarke seethed, fire alighting behind her eyes.

“Princess, shut up for one second and listen to me. I don’t want to be your friend, because- I’ve been ignoring you because I care for you and I get scared, no, I get  _terrified_. When I care for someone, when they mean something to me…” he trailed off, looking for words he couldn’t seem to find and looking anywhere but at her. He took a deep breath and moved his eyes to meet her own. “When I care I care a lot, so much that the thought of losing someone literally drives me to the edge.”

“And you care about me?” she questioned, a small sprinkling of hope fluttering out of her.

“I don’t want to be your friend, Clarke, I- I want to be more,” he stated, the words finally out and a deep breath following the admission. Clarke stared. Bellamy stared. Their eyes stayed on each other and no one said anything, their eyes never breaking contact.

“Bellamy,” Clarke broke the silence, but just barely with a low volume. “I care about you a lot too, too much, probably.”

Bellamy took a step forward, his hand coming up and brushing the hair from her face. Clarke sighed, leaning into the palm; his touch was electric, and Clarke couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have him touch her more, to hold hands, to feel his lips against hers. She looked at him, at the soft look he gave her, and she didn’t know whether he started it or she did, but suddenly they were closing the gap and meeting in the middle.

It was slow, soft, searching, and Clarke grabbed his free hand as their lips moved against each other. She didn’t want to be one of the girls Bellamy had a one night stand with, one where the kisses meant nothing and were easily forgotten, she wanted this to mean something, to mean  _everything_. She poured herself into the kiss, and she felt him smile into her. It felt like a prize, like she had finally one. They pulled back, their foreheads still connected and their breathing somewhat labored.

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled back, still incapable of finding more words.

“Let’s never be friends again.”


	4. Firsts and Lasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP dying from a gaping chest wound. Person B is frantically trying to stop the bleeding when Person A’s eyes flutter open and they whisper faintly, "My eyes are up here, asshole.” With Clarke being Person A.

“Goddamnit, Clarke,” Bellamy yelled, aware that there was a strong possibility of whizzing arrows or accidental gunshots or a number of other horrible things that could happen right now, but what did it matter, really? When the most horrible of all had already occurred.

“It’s just- a flesh- wound,” she breathed out, the words popping out sporadically. Bellamy looked at where the bullet had gone into her, blood spilling out at way too fast of a speed to make him feel anywhere in the realm of comfortable.

“What do I do?” he pleaded, the panic pulsing from his words. Clarke grabbed his hands, putting them on top of the wound.

“Pressure,” she told him, but the way she said it made him worry. There was a kind of finality in her words, like there wasn’t going to be a step two to her instructions. His eyes didn’t leave her stomach, looking for some kind of magical solution he knew wouldn’t come. “My eyes are up here, asshole.”

Bellamy dragged his eyes away from the wound and looked at Clarke’s face, the sad sort of smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth. That same delicate mouth he had imagined kissing a million times but had just pushed away and repressed and never thought about and how  _stupid_  was that? That he had left so many things hanging because he always assumed there would be more time, but here they were, so  _out_ of time.

“You’re so presumptuous, our first date and you can’t keep your eyes off of my chest? Strike one, Bellamy Blake,” she told him. Her breathing was still coming out in hurried waves, but he gave her a crooked smile and a deep breath.

“So you  _have_ wanted me all this time, should have known,” he joked.

“Pretty shitty location for a first date,” she told him. “Guns? Really?”

Bellamy laughed, but he was pretty sure it was just so he wouldn’t cry. The blood still coated his hands, heavy and thick, and Clarke was starting to look scarily pale.

“Sorry, can’t get a five-course meal for the princess,” he replied. Her hand reached up and cupped the side of his face, her eyes dragging over him like she was trying to engrain every last piece of him into her memory. Her eyes drooped down, closing. “Clarke, CLARKE!” he screamed shaking her, “Abby! Abby WHERE ARE YOU? GET OVER HERE.”

It was a desperate call, because he really had no idea where she was and saying the name Abby was foreign, strange, but he would do anything for Clarke.  _Anything_. Well, maybe anything but save her.

“Yelling for my mom, that’s cool,” she released, and her eyes flickered back open. Bellamy sighed a breath and lunged forward, pressing his lips down hard on hers. It was like a first but a last at the same time, the new, exploring kind of feeling, the excitement of Clarke, but it felt like they had also done it a million times before, like there lips fit perfectly together and were forged with fire.

“Clarke, please stay with me,” he pleaded, begged, asked with all of his heart and _when had he let her do this to him_?

“Don’t worry,” she promised, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I can’t do this without you,” he admitted, a tear dripping down his cheek and Clarke’s eyes found it. She bit her lip, water welling in her eyes but trying too hard to ignore the darkness and the pain and everything so she could stay and look at Bellamy’s face for just a second longer.

“You’re so brave, Bellamy Blake,” she breathed out in a smile, her eyes closing because it was too hard to keep them open, no matter how much she wanted to look at him for the rest of her life. “I’m sorry I never said I love…” the words trailed off, and Clarke let the darkness take her over, the last thing she feels being Bellamy’s hands grasping her face and his arms around her.

* * *

There was a lot of noise when Clarke came to. Light flickered on the tops of her eyes, and she tried to open them but it felt like something was weighing them down. It took a few minutes, but eventually she found the strength and there were colors everywhere around her.

“You’re awake,” Octavia exclaimed, standing up and moving closer to hug her. Clarke winced, but she didn’t have the heart to tell her to get off.

“I’m…alive,” she declared, the words feeling entirely surreal. The memories flooded back, the wayward bullet, Bellamy by her side, the darkness and pain and  _Bellamy_.

“You’re alive,” she promised, a happy tear slipping from her eye.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke pleaded.

Octavia smiled knowingly and sat back down in the chair. “He’s been here for four days straight, wouldn’t leave your side. He was starting to get sassy with some of the people helping and your mom kicked him out to go jump in the river cause he reeked.Seeing as he’s been gone for a half hour, he should be back any minute.”

“I told him…” she trailed off, but Octavia cut her off.

“He loves you too. Well, that’s what he was yelling at your mom when she started using too much medical terminology, anyway, ‘I don’t give a damn, but I’m not going to let the stupid princess die without telling her I love her, too.’ That shut your mom up real quick, never thought I could see someone’s eyes get so wide.”

Clarke closed her eyes tiredly, holding the feeling in her chest and letting the smile take over her features. Stubborn, they had been so stubborn. She had to die to tell him she loved him? How messed up was that?

“She’s up? And no one told me?”

Clarke opened her eyes and pushed herself up, groaning loudly at the sudden pain that hit her abdomen she hadn’t been expecting. Bellamy was on her in seconds, grabbing her face and kissing every single part of it, muttering princess with every admission of his lips. Clarke laughed, cried, and brought a hand up to his hair and rested her forehead on his own.

“Never again, you hear that princess? Never again,” he ordered. Clarke looked at the crooked smile on his lips, the content expression on his face with them so close, the soft dusting of freckles, and let a laugh trickle its way out of her mouth.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she told him. “I’m never leaving again.”


	5. Don't Say It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clarke is sick but won't stop moving. Bellamy makes it his mission to keep her in bed.

“We break into groups of three, there will be a gun with each group for pro-”

“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” Bellamy bellowed from the other side of the camp, and everyone who had huddled around Clarke stopped talking and turned their heads toward him.

“Hunting, Bellamy,” she replied exasperatedly. “Guys, go start, you know the rules,” she turned toward the mass, but besides for a few who began to move, most of them didn’t stray an inch. Their eyes were trained on the two in front of them, curious as to the outcome of the latest drama between the two leaders.

“Scram,” Bellamy ordered gruffly, and that did the trick, sending everyone off and away. Bellamy turned back toward Clarke, looking down at her with his eyebrows scrunched together and his lips pursed. “You’re sick.”

“I coughed like twice,” she defended. “I’m fine.”

“You sound like you’re dying, and  I’m pretty sure you haven’t slept for like a week,” Bellamy argued, but Clarke shook her head stubbornly.

“I can hunt just fine,” she told him, walking past him and moving toward the exit of the camp.

“Fine, you can hunt with me then,” he told her, grabbing a knife quickly off of the table before following.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she retorted.

“You need someone to watch after you,” he defended. “I’m just checking your back, princess, that’s it.”

* * *

“Don’t say it,” Clarke groaned, leaning up against a tree and breathing forcefully.

“I would never say I told you so,” Bellamy countered, smirking slightly at her. When Clarke hacked again, though, the expression slipped right off of his face and he moved forward with concern. “We need to get you back to camp.”

“Bellamy,” she pleaded, sounding resigned and unwilling to say what followed, “can I rest? I don’t think I can make it.”

“That must be hard for you to admit,” he stated, and Clarke glared right at him. “You need to lay down.”

“In the middle of the forest?” she pointed out. “Real good idea, Bellamy.”

“That’s not…” Bellamy sighed and shook his head, moving toward her and turning around. He stored the knife in his belt before squatting down.

“What are you doing?” she sighed.

“Don’t be stubborn, princess, just get on my back.”

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but then a hacking cough fought its way out of her throat and she gave up. She jumped on his back dejectedly, looping her arms around his neck delicately. His hands grasped her thighs, and Clarke felt secure on his back. Allowing herself a moment of weakness, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“They’re going to talk so much when we get back,” she told him.

“Let them,” he replied. Clarke laughed slightly, and without even meaning to do it at all, fell asleep.

* * *

When Clarke came to, she found herself laying in her own tent. It all came back to her, the woods, the sickness, Bellamy carrying her back.  _Bellamy_.

It was clear that Clarke hadn’t gotten any better in however long she had slept. Her head still ached, she couldn’t breath because her throat was tight and her head congested, and the small bit of light that flickered inside of the tent was hurting her head and her eyes.

“Clarke! Glad to see you’re up,” Jasper wandered in with no warning, plopping down on the side of the bed. “We need some help. Calypso twisted her ankle while hunting, you think you could come look at it?”

“Of course,” Clarke assured him, standing up and stumbling slightly from a moment of light headedness. She pushed through it and followed, walking as quickly as she could to the dropship. “Hey Calypso, show me that ankle of yours.”

Clarke examined it, finding it to only be a minor sprain, before wrapping it up and sending her on her way. Just as Calypso walked out, Bellamy walked in.

“Clarke!” he yelled sternly.

“What did I do this time?” she replied, standing up to put away her tools but wobbling heavy. Before Clarke even had to reach out for something, a wall or the nearby hammock, Bellamy was already behind her and holding her steady.

“You’re sick and you’re in here helping others when you should clearly be in bed,” he told her.

“I’ll go back and lay down, fine?” she snapped.

“No,” he told her, grabbing the tools from Clarke’s hands and putting them away for her. He moved back toward her, looping her arm around his neck and placing his own arm around her waist before moving toward the door. “When you stay in your tent you can’t get away from everyone and you have a hard time saying no.”

“To helping people? Wow, what a horrible person I am.”

“That’s the problem, you’re too good of a person. Until you’re better, you’re going to be selfish,” he told her. Clarke groaned, but she didn’t say anything as she let him guide her back to his tent. As they moved, Clarke noticed some of the whispers and looks they were getting, and she looked away so she wouldn’t have to face that awkwardness.

“Your bed is probably disgusting,” she groaned, but she let him lower her down and curled up into the blankets anyway.

“Not good enough for the princess?” he suggested jokingly. “I’m guarding this tent until you’re better. You’re not leaving.”

“Ok,” Clarke sighed, and a minute later, the only sound left was from Clarke’s soft breaths of sleep.

* * *

“Bellamy,” Clarke whined, shifting awake. Bellamy rushed to her side, his eyes pooling with concern. “I feel like I’m dying. I can’t,” she wheezed, “breathe.”

“Clarke,” he panicked, “what do I do?”

“Just…rub my back,” she pleaded. “ _Please_.”

Usually, there would be no way in a million years that Clarke would be able to let those words out, but her sickness was making her bizarrely vulnerable. Clarke kept her eyes closed, waiting for some sort of joke or mocking comment to fall from Bellamy’s lips, but instead she heard the dip of the bed and felt his hand rubbing circles on her back.

“This is what death is,” she groaned, and he heard Bellamy release a small laugh at the comment. Had he ever laughed before? Clarke couldn’t seem to really remember it, he must have on a few occasions, but it helped to brighten her mood the slightest bit.

“Stop being such a baby,” he joked, but his hand continued to make soothing patterns over her back.

“I’m going to sleep some more,” she muttered. Bellamy nodded, even though she couldn’t see it, and continued to rub her back until she dozed back into sleep.

* * *

“I’m so cold,” Clarke whined. She shivered, her whole body shaking despite the pile of blankets on top of her.

“I swear you have symptoms of every kind of sickness, what is wrong with you?” Bellamy questioned, but he didn’t even need to be asked as he went over to the bed and crawled in behind her.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm, princess,” he purred into her ear. Another day, she might have fought more, but she was so relieved to feel the warmth of him against her skin that she sighed and pushed back into him. Bellamy laughed again, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Don’t get any ideas, Blake,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

Two days later, the sickness having already flushed itself out of her system, Clarke walked past Bellamy and heard him hack. She stopped and looked him over, noticing his wan skin and the dark circles underneath his eyes, the way everything he did looked like moving through molasses.

“Blake, come with me,” she ordered, narrowing her eyes, and Bellamy followed with a groan of resignation. Clarke made sure to give him  _just_  as good of care as he had given her.


	6. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Monty is Clarke's gay best friend and is always giving her advice on how to make Bellamy like her back & Octavia and co (Jasper, Monty, Raven, etc.) all try to get Octavia's best friend (Clarke, obvs) and her brother to date.

“You need to just go for it,” Monty urged. Clarke glared back in response, turning her eyes back to the screen and ignoring his gaze.

“I don’t even like him like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“The sexual tension!” Jasper screamed, running through the swinging kitchen door and flopping down onto the sofa on the other side of Clarke. She took the bowl of popcorn from his hands, purposefully ignoring his comment.

“Bellamy Blake is the bane of my existence, and that is that,” Clarke declared.

“Ok,” Jasper nodded.

“Totally believe you,” Monty added in.

“You guys suck,” Clarke groaned, throwing popcorn into her mouth and crouching further into the cushions.

“I have an in, you know,” Monty offered.

“I don’t want your boyfriend to try to set me up with Bellamy because I don’t want to be set up with Bellamy,” Clarke declared.

“Ok, step one to achieving endgame Bellarke-”

“What’s bellarke?” Clarke cut Jasper off.

“It’s your ship name. Bellamy and Clarke,” he explained, rolling his eyes like it was the most idiotic question on the planet. “So, step one is getting Clarke to admit that she wants to bang Bellamy Blake but also have discussion about feelings with him and hopefully some day have two beautiful children named Su-”

“Stop talking before you lose every last shred of dignity you have,” Clarke warned.

“Talk to the person in the longer and more functional relationship,” Monty piped up, shushing Jasper from his spot on the other side of the couch. “Miller and I-”

“Don’t start talking about how you had to woo Miller because that is bullshit,” Clarke retorted. “He had his eyes set on you like a piranha from the first time you guys met.”

Monty moved as if to argue, but then he shrunk back. “That’s true, but I am a dude.”

“We are dudes,” Jasper added in.

“So I have the male perspective.”

“Monty and Jasper, gonna help Clarke get her man,” Jasper sang in response, doing a little dance from his side of the couch.

“Fine,” Clarke relented, “but we’re going to finish this Community marathon first.”

“Who do you think we are?” Jasper gasped. “Heathens?”

“Yea, geez Clarke. We do have our priorities straight.”

“Even if Monty  _isn’t_  straight,” Jasper teased, looking over at the two expectedly. “Get it? It’s funny!”

Monty and Clarke looked back at him, shaking their heads before looking back at the TV screen. Jasper protested, but Clarke just reached forward and grabbed the controller, turning the volume up.

* * *

“Step one of our plan,” Monty declared, “involves jealousy.”

“Really? That’s not even inventive, guys,” Clarke whined, but Jasper just reached out a finger and shushed her.

“We have significant others. You do not.”

“Yea, and I have no idea how you do,” Clarke exclaimed.

“Bellamy is more possessive when he feels the need to be protective,” Monty spoke, ignoring Clarke’s words. “Which is why you’re going to flirt with Finn.”

“I don’t want to flirt with Finn.”

“Do you want to date Bellamy?” Jasper prompted.

“Yes,” she groaned, crossing her arms.

“Then flirt we must,” Jasper answered.

Clarke looked up from the booth they had procured themselves, and toward the bar where Bellamy was working tonight. There was no way it was going to work, Clarke was pretty sure of that, but she had learned a long time ago that it was much easier to just go along with what Jasper and Monty wanted, especially when they wanted something this bad.

“Wait,” Monty halted her movements, reaching across the booth and ruffling her hair slightly.

“Push your boobs up a little more,” Jasper ordered.

“I’m not going to push up my boobs more!” she gasped, looking down at her chest in the dress she had already been forced into by the two boys. As far as she was concerned, this was already enough chest to make both parties happy.

“When does Finn get here?” Clarke asked.

“Him and Raven are showing up any minute,” Monty supplied. “Miller!”

“Hey guys,” he welcomed, bending down and giving Monty a soft kiss before sliding in next to him. “So, how close are we to getting Clarke a boyfriend.”

“He’s in on it too?” she asked defeatedly, banging her head down into the table once before coming back up.

“He’s my boyfriend, plus he’s like the best lead we have,” Monty explained.

“Why can’t the stupid bastard just like me back so I don't have to go through all of this,” Clarke moaned.

“He does like you,” Miller offered, “he’s just thickheaded and doesn’t know that yet.”

“I hate him,” Clarke declared. “And I’ve decided now that I am done with him. So, plan’s off.”

“You’ll change your mind in half a minute,” Jasper declared.

“Damn you and your knowing mind!” Clarke grumbled, taking a large swig from his beer in protest.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Finn grinned at the group, Raven already taking her coat off and pulling a chair up to the table. “I’m already up, anyone need more drinks?”

“I’d love a beer,” Miller stated.

“Refill!” Jasper declared.

“Rum and coke,” Raven ordered.

“You’re going to need some extra hands,” Clarke stated, standing up and smiling over at him. Finn smiled back, throwing his coat down on a chair and moving toward the bar. Clarke looked over her shoulder at the boys, all giving encouraging smiles and thumbs up, but she turned away and grimaced slightly.

“How was your day?” Clarke asked as they swung up to the bar. Her eyes couldn’t help but trail over Bellamy as he helped the group of girls a few seats over, she shook her head, though, and turned back to Finn.

“Man, you’ve got it so bad,” he stated.

“What are you talking about?” she replied.

“The way you look at him…” he trailed off.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, laughing back as he laughed at her.

“I hope he isn’t an idiot for too long, though, you deserve someone who cherishes you,” Finn told her. Clarke had been through a lot with Finn, there was no way to deny that, but the words hit her so strongly in the chest she thought she might even tear up a little. Sometimes it was so easy to forget her own worth, to forget she was capable of being loved, and Clarke leaped forward and gave Finn a hug. “Wow, if I had known it was this easy to get a hug…”

“Don’t get used to it,” she whispered, leaning back and sending a soft smile.

Two loud slaps echoed from the bar, and Finn and Clarke snapped apart at the sound. Clarke looked toward it, discovering that it had been Bellamy’s hands slapping against the countertop, announcing his entrance. Trailing her eyes over his face, Clarke thought it looked stormier than usual, but it was hard to read Bellamy. “What can I get you two?”

His words were clipped and forceful, like he would rather be anywhere else than where he currently was, and Clarke had to bring a hand up to her mouth to cover the small smile she felt coming.

“Refill for Jasper, whatever’s on tap for Miller, rum and Coke for Raven, Sprite and vodka for me, and…” Clarke trailed off.

“Whatever’s on tap is fine for me, too,” Finn finished.

“Wow, you two just finish each other’s sentences,” he stated with a sarcastic smile. Finn looked awkwardly between the two, his hands self consciously finding their ways to his pockets.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom quick while you get those together,” Finn announced, turning swiftly away.

“You and Finn seem awfully chummy,” Bellamy declared.

“We’re friends, that’s how normal friends act,” Clarke retorted. “I know you and I prefer to rip each other’s throats out and have a relationship based purely off of hate, but most people smile and laugh and hug.”

“You think I hate you?” he questioned, scoffing at her words.

“Most days, yea, I really do,” Clarke spat back, leaning over the bar and toward him. Bellamy’s eyes softened at that, his mouth perching open to respond, but then Finn sidled up to Clarke’s side and he broke the silence.

“Just add it to the tab, Bellamy.”

Bellamy gave a nod at Finn, sliding over the last beer and moving down the bar and away from them. Clarke and Finn grabbed up the drinks, carefully making their way back over to the booth. Something sat oddly inside of Clarke, something she just wasn’t quite sure how to feel about, and she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the way Bellamy’s eyes had slid over her face. The look of loss when she had spoken.

“Eye sex,” Jasper spoke as she sat back down. “That’s all I’m going to say. Eye.  _S_ _ex_.”

* * *

“Hey, Monty?” Clarke asked over her oatmeal, watching as he looked up from his computer and at her. He snapped it shut and leaned forward, crossing his arms over the table. His dedication, his concentration, Clarke adored it about him. When you needed Monty Green, he would be there, no matter what time or where or what the situation, when he had decided you were worth it he would go to the end of the world for you. Clarke couldn’t help but wonder how she had ended up getting so lucky.

“What’s up.”

“Why do you want me and Bellamy to be together so bad?”

Monty pondered over the words, flipping thoughts over in his head before leaning farther forward and perching his mouth open to speak. “I guess, he makes you happy. When you look at him Clarke...it’s like you forget about so much of the bad and you just seem lighter, happier, and for a second you seem to forget about everything else that’s happened and it’s just Bellamy. Maybe that’s overly romantic of me, but I just want you to be happy Clarke, after everything you’ve been through you deserve it.”

“He makes me so angry, though,” Clarke spoke up. “Like, there are times when I think I’m going to explode or implode or punch him in the goddamn face.”

“But isn’t that love?” he argued. “There are some things Miller does that make me want to light him on fire, seriously, but when he smiles at me...the world stops, and when he laughs I feel like I’ve finally found my home. The good never comes without bad.”

“Monty?”

“Yea?’

“Thanks for being my friend.”

“Clarke?’

“Hm?’

“Thanks for being mine.”

* * *

“Bellamy is at the bookstore, I repeat, Bellamy is at the bookstore,” Jasper called, rushing through the door. Monty and Clarke looked up from their laptops.

“Part of the plan begins now,” Monty stated, pulling Clarke’s laptop away from her. Clarke reached greedily after it, but sighed when he gave her a knowing look. “Can you go get dressed?”

“I am dressed,” Clarke stated, looking down at her beat up jeans and faded High School shirt.

“Have you even showered today?” Jasper questioned.

“I’ll put a beanie on,” Clarke whispered, moving up from the couch and toward the hallway mirror.

“Really?” Monty exclaimed. “You know what? Nevermind. Put the beanie on, we need him to love you the way you are, anyways, not the way others make you.”

“That was both inspiring  _and_  insulting,” Clarke replied, smiling at the chuckles she received in return. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Miller has been working on him all week, just sly comments to make sure you’re always on his mind. So just go talk to him,” Monty told her, appearing at her side. “Just be yourself, you’re great Clarke, he knows it he just doesn’t... _know_  it.”

“So helpful,” she muttered.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Jasper yelled. Clarke rolled her eyes, but grabbed her bag from the hook and headed out. The bookstore was only a few store fronts down from the apartment complex, something that had admittedly been a huge part of why they fought so hard for the place. Deciding she needed some caffeine first, Clarke stopped in the coffee shop and grabbed a mocha before waltzing through the connecting door and into the bookshop.

Knowing Bellamy, he was probably looking through the history books or mystery novels, but Clarke didn’t have much interest in either of those. Certainly, she wasn’t opposed to some good history from time to time, but she found herself much more interested in the fictionalized version of it. Sometimes, reality was just too much, so being able to delve into her fictionalized worlds was much nicer.

She creeped over to the bestseller bookshelf, just to see what was hot right now that she hadn’t read, when she heard him creep up to her side.

“You come here often?” Bellamy joked, leaning an arm up against the bookshelf next to her.

“Really?” she snorted, shaking her head and setting down the book she had been holding.

“No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend,” he joked, scrunching up his nose at her.

“Thanks for the judgement, always love that,” Clarke replied, grabbing the books from his hands and turning around.

“What are you doing with my books?” he questioned.

“You never buy them for yourself,” Clarke stated, turning around quickly and looking at him pointedly, “and I never got you a birthday present. So, I’m buying you books.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh shut up,” she told him, rolling her eyes.

“Only you could do something nice and sound angry about it,” Bellamy told her.

“Only for you, sweetheart,” Clarke replied sarcastically, sending him a wink. She rolled her eyes at the smile he sent back, but she moved forward just the same and set down his pile of books.

“You’ve got quite the catch,” the lady spoke, smiling knowingly at her.

“No, he’s not…” Clarke trailed off, looking over her shoulder as he perused the shelf she had just vacated. “He’s something,” she admitted.

“How long have you two been together?” she questioned, scanning the books far slower than she was sure was feasible.

“It’s...complicated.”

“Hey, the course of true love never did run smooth,” she pointed out, slipping them into a bag.

“William Shakespeare,” Clarke declared, handing over her debit card.

“You little scholar,” she spoke enthusiastically, swiping the card and handing it back. Clarke wondered why she was so peppy, but Clarke just shook her head and smiled back at her, taking a swig from her coffee cup.

“Hello there, handsome,” the lady spoke. Clarke looked over her shoulder, Bellamy right there and far too close for comfort.

“I’m going to get this,” he told her, smiling over at Clarke as he slid the book she had been looking at over the counter. Clarke raised an eyebrow at him, but he smiled wider. “You bought me some books, least I can do is return the favor.”

“Fine,” Clarke replied, narrowing her eyes at him. She turned back around to the lady behind the counter, watching as she smiled deeply to herself and scanned the book.

“You two are just too cute,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t we?” Bellamy replied, throwing his arm around her shoulders and smiling down at her. Clarke shoved her hip into him, sending a grumble underneath her breath, but moved closer to his smell and warmth all the same.

Clarke bent up on her tiptoes, reaching one hand on the side of his neck before bringing her mouth to his ear. “I hate you,” she whispered through a smile.

“Clarke, honey, later,” Bellamy replied, chuckling underneath his breath. Clarke sent a quick glare before turning back toward the lady behind the counter, who looked way to lovestruck at their little display.

“You know what, the book’s on the house. You two just made my day,” she stated, sliding the book over.

“Thank you so much,” Clarke told her, grabbing her bag off the counter and leading Bellamy outside. “Trade,” she spoke, holding out the bag to him.

“Hey, that was kinda fun, princess,” he returned with a devious grin. Clarke smiled at him softly, shaking her head. She grabbed the book from his offered hand and held it close to her chest.

“Well, I am loads of fun, so it really isn’t much of a surprise.”

“Is that so?” he teased back, pulling on a loose lock of her hair. Clarke slapped his hand away with a laugh.

“I have to go, Monty and Jasper require my presence, but I’ll see you soon?” Clarke asked.

“Yea,” Bellamy replied with a nod, “I suppose you probably will.”

* * *

“Hey, so I heard we’re trying to get you and my brother together,” Octavia stated, her eyes never leaving the cards in her hands.

Clarke blanched, looking around the table at all of her friends. Lincoln was saddled next to Octavia; Miller and Monty were sitting to their right; Raven, Finn, Jasper, Harper, and Monroe were all laying at wayward angles on the ground in the lopsided circle they had created for their game of cards. “Does everyone know?” she exclaimed, annoyed to receive chuckles and hearty nods in response.

“Everyone besides Bellamy, it would seem,” Lincoln stated.

“I’m totally for it, I’ve always thought you two would be perfect for each other,” Octavia proclaimed. She looked over at Clarke, smiling widely.

“Your brother is exhausting,” Clarke decided, awkwardly looking down at her cards. “I’m done with him.”

“She says that at least once an hour,” Jasper clarified. “It really means nothing.”

“One day it might,” Clarke argued.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” Octavia informed her.

“Hey! All plans go through me, I’m the one who spearheaded this mission,” Monty declared. Miller patted his shoulder comfortingly, rubbing his hand up and down his arm as Monty leaned further into him.

“I’m not doubting you, Monty, so far your plans have worked well. Bellamy’s been mentioning Clarke more than ever-”

“He has?” Clarke exclaimed.

“but we need to push him over the edge. We need one last thing to push it into overdrive,” Octavia explained.

“And how do we do that?” Clarke grumbled.

“You’ll see,” Octavia promised. “Just trust me.”

“I don’t,” Clarke mumbled, but Octavia only smiled in response.

* * *

“Vodka and Sprite,” Clarke grunted, plopping down on the bar stool. Bellamy looked up from where he had been wiping the counter, his eyebrows pushing together in concern.

“Long day?” he questioned, grabbing a cup from behind him and filling it up.

“You could say that,” Clarke replied, looking sadly back at him. The truth was, all Clarke wanted was for Bellamy to smile at her and hold her hand and mock her because, honestly, that would probably make her feel a hundred times better. Instead the oblivious bastard just slid the drink across the counter and leaned forward, showing off his impressive arm muscles.

“Anything I can help with? You need me to bash any skulls?”

Clarke released a chuckle.  _Not unless you want to bash your own in_. “This drink is enough, thanks.”

“You can talk about it,” Bellamy stated, reaching out and squeezing her hand quick before realizing what he’d done and pulling it back, “you know, if you want.”

“I’m just really tired,” Clarke admitted, resting her head on her hand. Bellamy smiled a small smile, giving her a reassuring look.

“Hey,” he spoke suddenly, his hand coming up and rubbing the back of his neck for a second, “will you still be tired on Friday night?”

“It depends on what you’re about to ask me,” Clarke replied.

“My friend has this art event, it’s this new exhibition, and he told me we couldn’t be friends anymore if I didn’t come. The thing is, he always tries to set me up with his random artist friends, he’s convinced I’m made to be in a relationship, so I told him I’d bring someone to get him off my back. Who would be more impressive at an art event than my dear, dear friend Clarke Griffin?” Bellamy explained, looking hopefully over at her. Clarke narrowed her eyes, eyeing his face, before releasing a sigh.

“Fine,” Clarke sighed back. “You’re picking me up, though.”

“Of course, I am a gentleman you know.”

“Debateable,” Clarke scoffed. “And you’re buying me a burger afterward because I’ll probably be hungry.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

Clarke smiled, grabbing her drink and heading back to the table, to her friends. “You have  _no_  idea.”

* * *

“I brought a dress,” Octavia spoke, smiling wickedly.

“Hello to you, too,” Clarke grumbled, following after her as she moved toward her bedroom.

“Put it on.”

“Fine,” Clarke stated, stripping right then and there (Clarke had abandoned her natural boundaries when it came to Octavia a long time ago), and sliding it on. “This is a little sequin-y, and showy, don’t you think?”

“Nope, you look hot,” Octavia stated. “Your makeup looks great, but…”

“I need help with my hair, I know.”

“Sit down,” she ordered. “We’ve only got like fifteen minutes before my idiot brother shows up.”

Clarke did as she was told, sitting down and letting Octavia pull her hands through her hair. There was no worry with her tugging and styling her hair, Octavia was great at this, and when she pulled back, declaring it done, Clarke smiled widely at the messy low bun.

“Can you get me Monty? I want to talk to him for a minute,” Clarke asked. Octavia nodded, escaping through the door and disappearing.

“You wanted me?”

“Yes, I need my gay best friend advice,” Clarke joked, the words coming out much more nervous than she had meant them to sound.

“You don’t need me,” Monty replied, “never have. The guy’s already head over heels for you.”

“What? This is not what I need, I need Monty Green motivational advice!” Clarke exclaimed. “How did Miller fall in love with you?”

“I let him see me,” Monty replied, “I cut the bullshit and let him see me. I guess he really did it first, which is why I knew I’d never want to leave his side again, but I think that’s when it turned real for us.”

“Monty, I know this is stupid, but I’m scared,” Clarke admitted. “I’ve loved him for so long and I...I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

“The idiot can only be stubborn for so long, don’t worry,” Monty promised. “Now let’s get out there, I’m pretty sure he’ll be here any minute.” Just as his words finished, the doorbell went off and Clarke sent him a nervous look, but he grabbed her hand reassuringly and pulled her out.

“Hey,” she stated. Bellamy turned around, his eyes widening as he saw her.

“Hey,” he announced, muttering softly. Clarke looked him over, at his dark suit that seemed to fit every part of him perfectly, at his bright eyes and tousled hair, and if she didn’t already love him, she thought that the sight of him standing in front of her with that look on his face might just do it.

* * *

“That art was pretty good, but this burger is all sorts of beautiful,” Clarke announced, taking another large bite and moaning at the taste. She blushed slightly as she saw the look Bellamy gave her, halting in his own actions, his burger halfway to his mouth. “Sorry,” she replied sheepishly.

“This is fun,” Bellamy declared.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Clarke exclaimed. “I  _am_  fun.”

“No, it’s just...why don’t we hang out more often? You and me?” he questioned. Clarke set her burger down, eyeing him for a second before shaking her head and standing up.

“No, I’m done, I’m out,” Clarke declared, her words loud and fuming.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” Bellamy spoke, suddenly worried as he stood up and moved around the table, toward her.

“What’s  _wrong_?” Clarke exclaimed. “Ahh,” she screamed softly, pushing him back against his chest. Bellamy stepped back, looking curiously at her, concern laced throughout all of his actions. “ _You’re_  wrong, I can’t-”

“I didn’t know it was so hard to be around me, apologies,” Bellamy replied sarcastically.

“You  _idiot_ , that’s not it! The problem is that it’s too  _easy_  to be around you because I’m so hopelessly in love with you and you’re so blind to it. I just want you to love me back, goddamnit, I can’t…” Clarke trailed off, shaking her head, “I just  _can’t_.”

Bellamy stood silent, still, his eyes trained on her and the only sounds that passed between them were their breaths, loud and harsh. Suddenly, Bellamy’s eyes softened and he lunged forward, cutting Clarke off mid breath with his lips on hers. Clarke reacted instantly, pushing her hands up and into his hair, making sure his lips never left her own.

“I still hate you,” Clarke breathed out, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he admitted, laughing at the groan she emitted in response.

“I hope my next boyfriend is far easier to deal with,” Clarke stated.

“Shut up, Clarke.”

And with Bellamy’s lips covering her own, she didn’t find it too difficult of a task.


	7. Share With A Soulmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You took the bottle of coke that I wanted so now we're splitting it and I just realized it says "Share a Coke with your Soulmate"

“It’s  _mine_ ,” Clarke declared.

“I touched it first, actually, so you better hand over that Coke right now, princess,” Bellamy responded.

Clarke stepped forward, their faces practically inches apart. Hating Bellamy would be a lot easier if he didn’t look so good angry and up close, but Clarke worked past the temptation to pull him in and kiss him and instead let the anger boil silently away inside of herself. “You can pull it out of my hands when I’m dead, Blake.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he hushed back, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Guys, it’s a freakin’ Coca-Cola, why don’t you just share it?” Monty spoke up, looking at them pointedly.

The two of them stepped back from each other, clearing their throats and nodding calmly. “Yea, yea let’s just share,” Clarke conceded. Bellamy nodded in reply.

“I mean it’s perfect for you two to share it anyway,” Jasper said.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, looking around as everyone snickered at the comment. Turning toward Bellamy, she was relieved to see he was just as confused as she was. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s just saying,” Octavia answered, “that Cokes were meant to be shared. That’s all, right, Jasper?”

“Right,” he replied, nodding far too excitedly for Clarke to believe it for even a second.

As Bellamy found a spot for himself on the couch, Clarke plopped herself down next to him. For some reason it made everyone else in the room continue to look at each other strangely, something that was endlessly aggravating as far as Clarke was concerned, but she tried to let it slide. There was always something stupid going on, and maybe if she just ignored it the whole thing would disappear.

She should have known she could never be so lucky.

“So, how long have you and Bellamy known each other?” Raven questioned, smiling far too widely to be innocent.

“Why do you care?” Bellamy asked.

“I’m just curious!” she defended. “Most of these guys have known you forever, but  _I_  don’t know the epic Bellamy and Clarke origin story.”

“Ok…” she replied skeptically. “Well, he’s always been Octavia’s brother, obviously, and I’ve known her since middle school. We became reluctant friends when I helped him pass AP Art.”

“It was a partner project and we were partners,” he argued. “Stop making it sound like you tutored me.”

“You were tragic!” she exclaimed.

Bellamy ripped the can from her hands, taking a quick sip. Clarke suddenly realized how close they were on the couch, their bodies pushed together because of the limited room. Octavia shifted a little to her right, almost like she was purposefully pushing them closer together, but Clarke was fairly sure she was just being paranoid.

“That whole story is true, but you’re wrong.” Bellamy shrugged as she stared at him aghast, Clarke confused on what in the world he was talking about. “You seriously don’t remember? The thing that made you willing to be partners with me in the first place.”

“Not ringing any bells,” she admitted.

“Seriously? It was Prom,” Octavia declared.

Clarke gasped. “Oh yea! I do remember that now.”

“Share with the class, please,” Raven stated.

“My date ditched out on me,” Clarke explained. “Bellamy was a senior and he thought he was all too  _cool_  to go to Prom so he wasn’t even planning on going-”

“But as the incredibly charming guy I am, I showed up in my very best suit and went with her anyhow.”

“Only because Octavia begged you to, I’m sure,” Clarke responded, sticking out her tongue.

“Hey! A princess can not go to a ball alone.”

“That is honestly the cutest thing I have ever heard,” Jasper commented, sighing as he fell back further into his chair.

“We spent half of the night fighting,” Clarke stated, but her words were light, and she was smiling, Bellamy returning the look right back at her. She snapped back, clearing her throat. “Share some of that Coke with me, I’m thirsty.”

“I mean, it makes sense for you to share it,” Monty stated. Jasper snickered next to him, looking at the pair with eyes Clarke could have sworn had hearts in them.

“What does that even  _mean_?” she snapped, looking around.

“Clarke-”

“No, can someone just tell me? You are all acting really weird and it’s freaking me the hell out.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy tried again, shoving her shoulder with his own, “look at the can.”

Clarke pulled it back fully in her own hands, twisting it until she saw the message.  _Share a Coke with your Soulmate._

“Oh my god,” she gasped, “you are all a bunch of freakin’ children, I swear.”

Bellamy laughed next to her, and Clarke turned her gaze toward him, eyes narrowed. “Oh, calm down, princess,” he responded.

Clarke felt a smile begrudgingly stretch across her lips, and as the group laughed around her, she found it impossible not to join in, even if the whole thing was sort of ridiculous.

“I hate you,” she snapped, her smile giving away to the lie.

“Clearly not, you  _love_  me. The Coke says so,” Bellamy responded. “Cokes just don’t lie.”

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, taking a sip from the can.

Bellamy leaned into her and she leaned right back. Maybe, Clarke thought, he was right. Maybe Cokes didn’t lie.


	8. Teach Me, Tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I am actually good at math but the math tutor is really hot so i’m pretending to be dumb au" bonus if Bellamy is the one who pretend to be dumb and then Clarke sees him making v difficult exercise?

“ _What_  are you doing?”

Bellamy shifted the paper under his binder, turning around with wide eyes and an easy smile, hoping to look as innocent as he could manage. Clarke was there, standing with eyes narrowed and a sort of fire emanating in her gaze that made Bellamy shift underneath it.

“Just waiting for you, I need some help on the math ho-”

“Oh no you don’t, I just saw what you were working on. What the hell?”

Clarke’s eyes were still filled with rage, but they turned a little softer, a little more upset. Bellamy knew he was in deep shit, that he shouldn’t have ever lead Clarke to believe he needed math help in the first place, but he was an idiot and she was beautiful and three weeks ago when he’d met her in the library he hadn’t been able to think of any other reason to get her to talk to him again.

“This is horrible,” he had grumbled, looking at the calculus problems laid in front of him. They weren’t hard, just time consuming and all around frustrating. He could be doing a million other things – going to Miller’s baseball game, watching movies with Octavia, berating Raven while he helped her study by begrudgingly holding up her flashcards – yet here he was, stuck doing math homework in the library, hungry and tired.

“It’s not that hard.” The voice that popped up behind him had been just sweet enough for him to want to throw his head into the table. He had thought she was going to be annoying, some sweater-wearing judgemental church girl who was going to try to make him learn math by understanding God, but when he turned around and saw her he suddenly felt like it would be an  _insult_  to God if he ever turned away or took his eyes off of her. “Do you need help? I’m in Calc 2 so if you need the help I can…”

“Yes,” he blurted. Truth was, he was also in Calc 2 but he was afraid saying that would make her run away and as nice as the view of that would be, he’d much rather keep her by his side a little longer. “This differential equation…”

“They’re hard and pesky, but don’t worry it isn’t really that hard once you break it down.” Clarke sat down next to him, puffing at a piece of blonde hair that fell over her face as she sat, and turned toward him. “I’m Clarke, head tutor if you ever need help again in the future.”

“Bellamy, and I’m definitely going to need that help.”

He should have just asked her out on a date, but Clarke was the kind of beautiful that was intimidating. When she smiled he swore every atom inside of him felt like it was going to explode, and it made him think he would do just about anything to bring on that smile for a little bit longer. Three weeks he had fallen for her more and more, her dry humor and sarcastic comments and witty stories. He’d thought about telling her at least a dozen times, but then she would lean forward and her breath would brush his shoulder and he couldn’t stop himself from pretending he was confused about the algebraic substitution.

“Ok, so here’s the deal-”

“You were creating a math problem and someone who needs help with math definitely could not have done that so please explain to me what’s going on.” Clarke’s arms crossed themselves across her chest, her eyebrows raising and her foot tapping impatiently.

“I was  _trying_  to explain bu-” Clarke shot him a glare and he raised his hands in surrender, cutting off his words with a desperate plea of a look. “You were one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen and I got nervous, panicked, and then told you I couldn’t do math which isn’t true.”

Clarke took a step back, her hands dropping back down to her sides listlessly and her eyebrows pushing together. It was evident from the open expression on her face that whatever she had been expecting him to say,  _that_  was certainly not it.

“So it wasn’t a prank? Or, or…” Clarke trailed off, clearly incapable of thinking of another reason why he would be doing it. Bellamy stood up, walking tentatively toward her as if worried she was a wild animal that could easily be scared away.

“It wasn’t. Honestly.” Bellamy stood in front of her, about a foot sitting between them. He brought his hand out in front of him, holding it out and letting it hang. “Hi. I’m Bellamy Blake. I’m actually really good at math and think you’re pretty amazing.”

Her lip quirked up at the corner, a little tentative, but he could feel her wavering. He kept his hand up between them, praying she would grab it and give it a shake. Her hand reached up, pausing inches away from it before finally going in and grabbing it back. “I’m Clarke Griffin. Thank you… I think.”

“Can we hang out some time without math? Or with math I guess, but I’d prefer it not to be at the library. This is starting to sound really pathetic so I’m going to stop. Please forgive me.” Bellamy felt her hand slip out of his, a warmth leaving that left him feeling a little lonely.

“I’ll forgive you,” she replied, “but you have to buy me dinner. Like a nice dinner, with pizza and drinks I don’t have to pay for.”

Bellamy felt a smirk pull at his lips. “I think I can manage that.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t  _lying_  about it, are you?”

“I deserve that one.”

“Yea, you do.” Clarke smiled and he was fairly sure she wasn’t as angry as the words made her sound. Bellamy just hoped he didn’t mess up his second chance; he would buy her a million more dinners, a million drinks, if he just got to see her smile again. 


	9. Sky Box Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Flower shop below a tattoo shop AU + Murphy is Clarke's asshole best friend that she beat up for being mean when they first met and then defended because he was being bullied

“Hey! Blondie! I think I just saw your future husband,” Murphy yelled. Clarke looked idly up, raising a brow as she waited for Murphy to explain. “You should probably come check it out.”

“I don’t care.”

“If you saw him, you’d care.”

“Last time you said that it was about Finn, Murph. Clearly, you suck at this,” Clarke replied, turning her eyes back to the sketch.

“Actually, last time I said something like that was about Lexa,” he corrected.

“And that one was even worse, so thank you for proving my point.” Clarke waited a beat, turning her gaze up to see Murphy watching her expectantly. She groaned, threw her pencil down, and made her way over. If she didn’t he would just keep bitching about it anyway, and she was so  _not_  in the mood.

“Look who’s moving in shop downstairs,” Murphy spoke. He was wearing a triumphant sort of smirk that was so aggravating Clarke contemplated slapping it right off, but she begrudgingly liked Murphy, had since the 4th grade when some kid had made fun of Murphy’s alcoholic mother and she had punched the little bastard straight in the face, so she let the look slide.

Clarke finally reached the window, eyeing the stranger on the street. She now understood Murphy’s excitement, the guy _was_  ridiculously attractive, even from a floor above she could tell that. He wasn’t necessarily what she normally found herself attracted to, but there was something about his broad shoulders and wild hair that pulled at something low in her stomach in a way she had never felt pulled before.

A girl was helping him carry things in from his truck parked out front, and at first Clarke assumed she must be his girlfriend, but then the girl came and punched him in the arm, the two of them laughing in a way that was purely familial. She had incredibly striking features, Clarke noticed, long hair and a strong jawline, and Clarke wondered how one family could have such good genes. It surely wasn’t fair.

“Not my type,” Clarke declared, stepping back from the window. Murphy turned toward her, eyebrows raised in surprise and mouth perched open.

“Not your type?” he sputtered. “So, you’re discriminatory against extremely attractive people now?”

“You sure  _you_  aren’t into him?” Clarke questioned.

“I’m just saying, I’m calling this one right now. I’m getting the vibe.”

“There’s no vibe.”

“There’s a  _vibe_. Destiny is pulling you two together,” Murphy replied, pushing himself away from the window and moving back toward the front desk. Clarke ignored his words, rolling her eyes dramatically and making sure he caught it.

Murphy was full of shit.

* * *

Clarke hummed softly to herself, the only other sound the clicking of keys as she inputted data into the computer. She hated the month to month financial part of her job, usually she loaded it on to Murphy (he was strangely good at numbers), but he was lucky enough to be in the back with a client and the duty fell to her.

“Murph! You want chinese food?” Clarke called, pushing back from the desk and letting her chair roll.

“I’m with a client, blondie!”

“You’re with Lincoln, it barely counts,” Clarke replied.

“If Lincoln ever talked I’m sure he would say to fuck off.” A crash came from the back room after Murphy spoke, an expletive following along with a deep chuckle Clarke knew must be Lincoln’s.

“Lincoln talks, just not to assholes like you,” Clarke replied. “You still like pork dumplings, right? You’re forced to stay, by the way, no excuses.”

“I still like pork dumplings,” Lincoln confirmed. Clarke laughed as Murphy swore some more, rattling on about inconsiderate people and needing new friends. As she heard Lincoln’s laugh join in again, the door rattled open, the bell above the door tinkling.

“Hello, welcome to The Sky Box,” Clarke began absentmindedly, tapping the last supplies cost into the spreadsheet before looking up. “Woah, I know you.”

“We know each other?” It was the girl from downstairs, the gorgeous one, and Clarke was a little bit frustrated and a lot astounded to see that she was a hell of a lot more attractive up close. Her hair was smoothed perfectly down her back, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she looked absolutely impeccable standing in the doorway across from her.

“No,” Clarke exclaimed, finally finding her voice. She sent a smile her direction, pushing up out of the chair and past the front desk. “I saw you helping your brother move in the other day.”

“Oh, yea,” she responded, nodding along with the words. “We just moved here, he’s opening shop just below you. I told him it was a little weird to open a flower shop underneath a tattoo place, but he made some speech about mixing aesthetics and yadda yadda yadda and here we are.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Clarke responded. “I’m Clarke.”

“Octavia,” she spoke. Octavia walked forward, standing near Clarke and holding a hand out. Clarke took it in her own, giving a solid shake and smiling back. “So, this your shop?”

“Me and my friend Murphy’s. We have another artist, Raven, but the two of us were the ones who started this shithole.” Clarke held her hands out jokingly with her final words, crossing her arms across her chest once she was done. She leaned her head back, yelling pointedly, “I’ve been trying to get Lincoln to work here ever since we opened, but he’s stubborn.”

“I have a job,” came the reply. Octavia seemed to perk up at the sound, and Clarke filed that away for later, noting how her sparkle had grown in her eye just from his damn  _voice._

“So, what brought you up here?” Clarke questioned. Octavia shifted a little, most likely a nervous tick, before pushing her shoulders back and staring straight at her.

“I want a tattoo.”

“You happened to come to the right place,” Murphy replied, stepping out from the back room. “I’m Murphy,” he added, nodding in her direction.

“How long did you wait back there so you could come out while saying a witty line?” Clarke asked, raising her brows. Murphy rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t. It’s just my luck.”

“Three minutes,” Lincoln answered for him, smiling slyly over as Clarke snorted. Clarke made sure to watch Octavia as she noticed him, watching her eyes widen slightly and the blush that seemed to run up her neck. “I’m Lincoln.”

“He practically single-handedly keeps our business open,” Murphy spoke.

“You should stay for dinner.” Clarke watched Octavia’s eyes turn to her, and she felt a sort of sisterly bond for the girl in front of her. She could recognize a girl with interest in a guy when she saw one – it would have just felt wrong not to try to help her out. “We’re already forcing Lincoln to, I was just about to order chinese. We can talk about your tattoo!”

“You should,” Lincoln agreed. Clarke whipped her gaze toward him, trying all the while to hide the smirk that was already forming on her face. The whole thing was going to be way easier than she thought. “Clarke always orders too much.”

“I do not.” Clarke scoffed. “I just always expect more from you all and you consistently disappoint me. So, Octavia, you in?”

Octavia nodded, smiling over at Lincoln the whole time. “Hell yea,” she replied.

By the end of the night Octavia had a sketch for a new tattoo, a long arrow that was going to go the length of her spine, and a date planned for Friday with Lincoln. Murphy tried to tell Clarke to stop gloating, but it was impossible; she just felt too damn proud of herself.

* * *

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Clarke snapped her eyes up, taking in the heaving man in front of her with apprehension. His curly locks were even more unruly up close and personal, and now that she could see his face properly, she couldn’t help but notice the splattering of freckles and his vivid eyes. He was even more beautiful, and Clarke was starting to wonder if the Blakes were putting something special in their water or something.

“Clarke Griffin, but I suppose you already know that,” she replied. “Now, Bellamy, you want to get to the point? Or are you just going to keep yelling at me vaguely?”

“You’re going to tattoo my sister?” he questioned, stepping forward. Clarke narrowed her eyes, the slits becoming so small from the anger that rippled through her body she was surprised she could still see him at all. She stood from the chair, pushing toward him as she unleashed her next words.

“Well, God forbid I do that. I only work in a  _tattoo_  parlor.”

“She’s young, she-”

“Is eighteen,” Clarke cut him off, the two of them standing face to face in the middle of the room, only a few feet between them. The air seemed to tingle with heat from the two of them, and Clarke was surprised Murphy hadn’t made his way out from the back with all the yelling that had started. “And it’s her body. I’m sorry to say you don’t get to make any decisions about it.”

“I met that guy you set her up with?” he continued, his words plowing through her argument without even contemplating the point she had just raised. Clarke assumed he had stumbled up here in a rage and wasn’t going to be able to stop until he’d gotten it all out, but she didn’t have to be happy about it. “How fucking old is he, because he looks like he’s fifteen years older than her.”

“Ok, he’s a little old for her,” Clarke conceded, “but it’s only about seven years.”

“Only seven?” he exclaimed. “That’s still a hell of a lot. And I’m not even sure I quite believe you. Have you seen how built he is?”

“Yes, actually, I have. I’ve been friends with him since art school,” Clarke snapped. “Don’t you own a fucking flower shop? Shouldn’t you be a pacifist?”

“You’re trying to ruin my sister’s life!”

“Ruin? I’m trying to  _ruin_  your sister’s life?” Clarke yelled, her breaths coming in and out in angry puffs. “I’m trying to help her. She came from out of state and has no friends. All I tried to do was set her up with someone who clearly has an interest in her and she also has an interest in, too. He’s one of the best men I know, I promise you that.”

“Well, sorry if I don’t trust you, the stranger who’s trying to tat up my sister’s body.”

“It’s the 21st century, stop being so prejudiced against tattoos. And, you know what? Need I repeat  _tattoo parlor_. Tattoo parlor! At least she’s coming to someone who’s going to give her a fair price and make sure it’s a comfortable experience. When I got my first tattoo I had a guy ogling my boobs the whole time, and he nearly ruined the shading because of it.”

Clarke finished the words with a huff, a growl releasing from her lips when she suddenly felt his eyes on her chest. He realized what he was doing pretty quick, snapping his eyes back to her face, but it was too late. Stepping forward, she poked Bellamy in the chest and held his gaze. She wasn’t going to bend underneath the asshole’s weirdly intense staring.

“Don’t ever come into my shop and presume you know me. I do  _excellent_  work. I’m trying to help your sister out – I think it’s time you let go of the leash. She’s her own person, clearly you did a good job with her, but now she needs to start living for herself. You make one more comment about my inadequacies or trying to unnecessarily control her or you stare at my rack for too long and I will end you. Got it?”

Bellamy paused for as long as he could, his jaw tightening and his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Got it,” he answered. Clarke nodded at him once, jagged and quick, and waited for a nod in response before walking back behind the front desk. It made her feel safer, less like she would lash out again, and she placed a docile smile onto her face.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

Bellamy’s feet shuffled below him, his eyes trained solely on the ground, and Clarke waited anxiously for whatever it was he was going to say next. It was evident by his body language that he suddenly felt sheepish, that there was something still weighing on him, and Clarke hoped desperately it was something she could use to throw back in his face. It was petty, but Clarke never claimed to be mature.

“Actually,” he began, wincing as his words came out, “I came up here to ask you to come to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, my hearing really must be going,” she spoke. “Can you repeat that?”

Bellamy winced. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“At what point from downstairs to walking up the  _single flight_  of stairs to come up here did you change your plan from inviting me over for dinner to yelling at me with reckless abandonment?” Clarke shot back, her eyes wide and her hands moving hurriedly around her body, flailing as she spoke.

“Octavia wanted me to invite you, but then when she was explaining to me why she wanted to invite you I got angry but I had already promised her so I didn’t realize until I was halfway through the argument that I still had to invite you…” he trailed off. If Clarke still hadn’t wanted to cut his head off, or at least his lips so he could never speak again, she would have almost felt bad for him. It didn’t matter that his puppy-eyed, pathetic look was all sorts of adorable, she still hated him.

“Fine. I’ll be there, but one word of  _sass_  from you,” she answered, her finger trained solely on his face, “and I will waste no time in punching you in the face.”

“That’s all I ask,” he replied, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Are you bipolar?”

“Just be downstairs at six, alright?” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes. He stormed out, not even muttering a goodbye, and the pressure and heat from earlier pushed right back up into her chest. There was a good chance he might be dead by the end of the night, Clarke rationalized, but she decided she was going to try her best for Octavia.

* * *

Her best for Octavia ended with a thrown handful of mashed potatoes forty minutes into dinner that splattered right onto Bellamy’s right cheek. He retaliated by spilling the entire gravy pot right over her clothes, and after that Octavia hid behind the tree and waited for them to finish, yelling encouraging words to both Clarke and Bellamy equally ( _“Come on, guys, I don’t pick sides. I’m impartial.”_ ).

Ten minutes later they were laying on the grass, giggling as the looked at the food coated in their clothes and stuck in their hair. Octavia finally crept out from behind the tree, sitting next to the two of them as they stared absently up at the sky, the laughter spewing from their mouths incapable of stopping.

“We look ridiculous,” Clarke spoke, reaching forward and attempting to help get the potato from out of his eyes. He winced back, and she moved forward more delicately. As Bellamy’s eyes finally fully opened, he took her in, a slow smile creeping across his features. He reached forward, tugging broccoli sprouts from her hair, and Octavia muttered something about being  _absolute children, I swear_  next to them, but they didn’t much care.

“Speak for yourself,” he threw back. Clarke smiled at him, wide and unhindered, and Bellamy wondered how he could have even been mad at her hours previously when she could smile like that.

“You two idiots, I knew you were going to be best friends,” Octavia stated. Clarke felt a blush sweep over her cheeks for some reason, but she didn’t know why she felt embarrassed by the statement. “Now, can I hose you two down? It’s kinda grossing me out.”

“Fine, but avoid my face, ok? It’s the money maker,” Bellamy stated, Octavia groaning in response and Clarke rolling her eyes.

Octavia totally didn’t avoid his face.

* * *

“I don’t trust a guy without a tattoo.”

“You don’t trust men, period,” Clarke stated.

“Men haven’t given me any reasons to trust them,” Raven replied, rolling her eyes. She bent forward, going over the outline of the tattoo in front of her.

The girl let out a small hiss, but didn’t complain. “Amen to that,” she added.

“See! Even Fox agrees.”

Clarke had known Bellamy for a month or so, and in that time he’d quickly become one of the best friends she had ever had. Murphy still sat soundly at the top, of course, and Raven and Lincoln were also up there, but Bellamy and her got each other in a way she had never experienced before. It was bizarre, almost terrifying in a way, but she was starting to think that if he decided to just up and leave, to get out of her life, she wouldn’t quite be capable of going back to the way things had been before.

“Earth to Clarke,” Raven spoke, setting down the tattoo gun and picking up a hand mirror. She nudged Fox toward the wall mirror, letting the girl go check out her new tattoo. “You there?”

“I’m right here,” Clarke replied. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

“Physically, no. Mentally, yes. You get this look,” Raven explained, motioning with her hand vaguely in her direction, “when you think about him. It’s like super intense.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” Murphy spoke, popping up out of nowhere. “Not saying he’s your future husband or anything… but he’s _probably_  your future husband.”

“We’re dropping this.” Clarke stood up from the chair, walking toward the door and only stopping to throw one last comment over her shoulder. “You need to stop listening in, Murphy, it’s starting to get kinda creepy.”

* * *

“Clarke, you up here?” Bellamy questioned.

“When am I  _not_  up here?” Clarke watched the door as Bellamy walked through it, a smirk already placed on his lips. “What can I do for you?”

“I want a tattoo.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

Clarke scoffed, stepping forward. “Fine, then what do you want?”

Bellamy walked closer, a hand going to the back of his shirt and grabbing it forcefully. Before Clarke could even spit out a single word, Bellamy had already pulled it over his head. Standing in front of her, shirtless and smirking, Clarke was fairly sure he was the embodiment of sex. Or maybe it had just been a really long time since she got laid, but Clarke was finding it really hard to look away from him, her tongue unconsciously licking over her lips.

“I was thinking,” he began, his voice sultry as he moved step by aggravating step toward her, “that I could get something that starts right here,” he continued, pointing low at his left hip and trailing his fingers over his stomach, “all the way up here.”

Clarke tried to keep her face as passive as she could manage, swallowing thickly before snapping out of her lust-filled haze. “Are you doing this just so you could take your shirt off?”

“Oh, yes, 100%,” he answered, snapping entirely out of the sensual act he had been playing.

“Can you stop fucking with me and put your shirt back on?” Clarke sighed, ignoring how his smirk grew.

“I would, because I’m actually legitimately scared you’re going to find a way to tattoo me without my consent right now, but I came up here to ask if you have a first aid kit. Fucking with you was just part of the fun.”

“You’re evil.”

“You  _love_  me,” he shot back.

Clarke found it fairly hard to argue with that. She didn’t love him (probably), but she did care deeply about him. She was somewhere between like and love, a misty middle ground where her heart ached for him but she didn’t know what in the hell to do about it.

“I have a first aid kit, sit down will you?” Clarke decided staying as far away from the ‘you love me’ comment was probably the safest plan. “Holy shit, your back. How in the world did that happen?”

“Freak orchid cutting accident. Trust me, you don’t want to know more than that. Can you fix me up, doc?”

Clarke eyed the deep gash that ran over his shoulder blade. Her fingers reached out, fluttering lightly over his skin as to be as delicate as she could manage. Bellamy sighed into her touch, or at least she was fairly sure he had sighed, but everything lately regarding Bellamy Blake was like a strange puzzle she just wasn’t all that sure how to put together, so it really was anyones guess.

“I can, but you might actually need stitches.”

“Please,  _no_ , I hate doctors.”

“I can do it,” she replied, “just hold still.”

“Wait, are you serious? You can stitch me back up?”

“Sure can. Mom is a doctor and Murphy used to get in a lot of fights.” Clarke grabbed the first aid tools, sterilizing Bellamy’s back and getting to work. He hissed a little at first, mostly from shock, but once she started working, he was as stiff as a board.

“You have any other secret skills you’re hiding up those sleeves, Griffin?”

“Just my ability to handle you.”

“Need I remind you: you  _love_  me,” he sung, his mouth wide with a smirk the whole time.

Clarke  _really_  didn’t need the reminder.

* * *

“You know, blondie, you could do anything,” Murphy spoke. Clarke looked up from her book, eyebrows scrunching together. His eyes were wide, like he was waiting for her to catch on to something that felt startlingly out of reach for her.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The things we’re capable of inside of us, like if we weren’t afraid of the things we could do and the consequences they might have. We could do anything.”

“Still not seeing the point.”

“Sometimes we don’t tell people we like them, even when we should.”

“I’m not telling Bellamy, it’ll ruin everything,” Clarke argued, shoving her eyes back on to the book so she didn’t have to meet Murphy’s gaze.

“You so sure about that?”

She wasn’t. And that scared her more than anything.

* * *

Clarke watched as Octavia moved from rose to rose, cutting the ends off in a perfect sort of rhythm. Her hands moved in time to a song Clarke could not hear, but it was evident by the way Octavia’s body pulsed she clearly did. “You sure you don’t want to try?”

“Cutting roses? No, I think I’ll sit here.”

“You know, I never thanked you for setting me and Lincoln up,” Octavia replied. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy before.”

Clarke smiled wide, eyes gleaming. “You deserve it, both of you. I’m glad I could help.”

Octavia returned the grin, but her eyes darted around Clarke, unsure of where to land. Clarke had a sneaking suspicion that Octavia was working up the courage to say whatever it was that was about to come out of her mouth next, and Clarke let the words come on their own time, letting the silence remain.

“That’s the thing, Clarke, I want to be able to help you in return.”

“How so?”

“You and my brother,” she began, holding out a hand to halt Clarke as she began to protest, “hear me out. I know you’re going to say it’s not like that or he doesn’t like you in the same way you like him or it’s too dangerous or a million different things, but, honestly? Clarke, how many of them matter? Like truly matter.”

Clarke’s mouth gaped, opening and closing several times though no sound came out. There weren’t words to fill the silence, to answer the unanswerable question, so she nodded, pushing herself out of the chair and standing still for a moment.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Octavia broke the silence, winking in her direction. Clarke smiled back, hoping it was enough of a reply, and walked to the front of the shop.

For as intense as Bellamy could be, as passionate, he was oddly calm as he made bouquets. His hands seemed so delicate as they arranged and rearranged the flowers, his mouth crooked in the most adorable way, and the sight of him, staring with utter concentration at a bunch of flowers, was something Clarke was fairly sure she would, and could, never get sick of.

“Bellamy.”

It took him a second to come out of the haze, looking up with mild concern, his blank face turning jovial as he noticed Clarke. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I need to tell you something.” As Clarke spoke the words his face became more concerned, flooding with worry, but he still managed to keep the situation light as he shrugged and smirked over at her.

“What? You need to tell me that you’re madly in love with me and you want to have my babies?”

“Actually, yes,” she countered. Bellamy naturally took a step back, his eyes widening, and all Clarke could think to do was let a stream of words spill from her mouth. “The former more than the latter, it seems a little premature to talk babies if you ask me. I’ve just, never had a friend like you? So, I didn’t want to mess it up but I really like you, like you get me, and-”

“Clarke?”

“Yes?” she replied.

Bellamy’s smile stretched slow across his features, his feet meandering him closer to Clarke in a way that was painfully slow. His hands reached up to her cheeks, grabbing her face in his hands. “Shut  _up_.”

With Bellamy’s lips on her own, it wasn’t that hard of a command to follow.


	10. Views and Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I came to the gym to work out but holy god i can’t stop watching you do one armed push ups that’s so hot.”

Clarke liked running. There was a rhythm to it, a simplicity, and yes there were times when it felt like she was going to die and she would decide that she was  _done_  with running, but it usually didn’t last long. She had picked the habit up when her dad had died a few years back and hadn’t stopped since, finding a sort of calm in the slapping of feet on gravel or a treadmill belt and the angry puffs of her breath.

Usually she was good at keeping her mind on track, thinking of nothing but the consistency of her arm swings and her eyes locked forward, but then  _he_  walked in. She hadn’t noticed him at first, too set in her running brain to even bother, but now this stranger was on the ground right in front of the line of treadmills and he was doing push ups…and his arms looked  _good_. Clarke’s iron will held her eyes as straight forward as possible for a solid two minutes, but then they flicked back to him and it was clear she was going to lose this battle.

His skin was tanned, smooth, and Clarke didn’t even pretend she could stop herself as she watched a bead of sweat tantalizingly slip down his back. There was no stopping him in his consistent rhythm, push up after push up, and his arms bulged under the work. An arm lifted up and suddenly he was doing one-handed push ups and Clarke’s brain was having a  _really_  hard time taking that in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered, her eyes widening at the sight. She shifted her head side to side just to see if anyone else was seeing this, but then she was reminded that it was almost midnight and it was only her and him in the gym. Which was giving her really bad ideas about what exactly they could  _do_  with that privacy.

“Did you say something?”

Clarke whipped her eyes back to the guy in front of her, now back on his own two feet and looking straight at her. The mixture of his gruff voice and the spattering of freckles and messy, dark hair she could now see managed to make him that more irresistible, her blood pulsing uncharacteristically loud in her ears.

“Nope,” she replied breathlessly from both her consistent running and the way his eyes seemed to burn right through her, “just sang something underneath my breath.”

The guy nodded, smirking like he knew a secret, before turning back around to the free weights and leaving her be. Except Clarke couldn’t seem to leave  _him_  be because now he was lunging and holding weights and had it really been that long since she got laid? Because holy hell was this guy seeming to affect her.

Just as Clarke was starting to think she may be able to get back to her running without distraction, he jumped up and grabbed the bar, lifting his body up with ease. Clarke was fit enough, though she mostly just worked out so she could eat what she wanted without feeling guilty, but there was no way she could do a pull up, and certainly not ten in a row. Honestly, she couldn’t take it anymore, there was no way she could continue to run while  _that_  was in front of her. She slapped the off button and jumped down, her body pulling her toward him without even being fully aware of what she was going to do.

“Can I help you?” he questioned, noticing her approach in the mirror. He turned toward her, raising an eyebrow questioningly, and Clarke felt something inside of herself snap. She pulsed forward, grabbing the back of his head and pulling it to her, kissing him soundly on the lips.

“I don’t normally do this,” she stated breathlessly between hurried kisses. His hands grabbed at her waist, sliding down to her thighs and pulling her up. She laced her legs together behind his back, moaning into his mouth as her fingers laced themselves in the sweaty tangles of his hair.

“Do you see me complaining?” he grunted. She laughed the slightest bit into his mouth and pulled back for a brief second, just to suck in a breath.

“Clarke,” she told him. “My name’s Clarke.” As soon as the words were out, her mouth was already moving back toward him, trailing sloppy kisses up his neck.

“Bellamy,” he returned, flipping and pushing her back into the wall. It sucked a breath out of her, but she didn’t mind as seconds later he was hungrily kissing her. His tongue flickered over her lips, begging for entrance, and Clarke happily agreed.

“Hey Bellamy, are you ready to - Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” a voice echoed around the space, laughter evident between her words. Bellamy pulled hurriedly back, dropping Clarke’s thighs and letting her fall back to the floor. Clarke stumbled in a daze, but the wall kept her propped up, offering something to lean on.

“O, it’s not-”

“I’m a big girl, it’s fine,” she replied, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “Just didn’t know that’s what ‘working out’ meant these days.”

“It isn’t,” Clarke tried, finally finding her voice. The words reminded Bellamy that she was still standing there and that his hands were still conveniently placed on her hips; he released his hold and stepped back, Clarke feeling the loss of heat far more than she logically should.

“Don’t worry, I honestly don’t think poorly of you,” the girl spoke up, walking toward her. She held out her hand and Clarke took it in her own. “I’m Octavia, Bellamy’s sister, and you are?”

“Clarke, I just assaulted your brother,” she replied. She winced internally at the words, but if anything they seemed to bring Octavia some joy, a giddy giggle releasing itself from between her lips.

“I like her,” she stated, moving her eyes to Bellamy. “Do you have her number?”

“Octavia,” he groaned, clearly unsure of what to do. Clarke realized for the first time that, though it may have been a long time since she’d done anything remotely sexual, it may have also been a while for Bellamy too, especially if the excitement Octavia was showing was anything to go by.

“Sorry to interrupt this whole thing,” she began, motioning with her hands between the two of them, “but my study session was over and I thought you’d want to walk me back to the dorm.”

“I would,” Bellamy confirmed with a sharp nod. His eyes jerked back to Clarke before looking to Octavia and her eyes widened with realization.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke. I’m just going to go…wait outside.” The door jingled as Octavia pushed her way outside, and Clarke wondered how she hadn’t heard it when she came in. Well, she knew  _why,_ but she hadn’t realized how oblivious to everything besides Bellamy she had been until that moment.

“Don’t let my sister pressure you,” Bellamy stated, “but I certainly wouldn’t mind having your number.”

Clarke smiled back at him, surprised, and took a step forward. “I don’t normally make out with strangers just because they do one-armed push ups.”

“Good to know,” Bellamy spoke. “I only did the one-armed push ups because I saw you. Never seen someone run with such determination before, it was impressive and admittedly distracting.”

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one.” Clarke grabbed his phone from the weights bench, taking the liberty of plugging in her own number before handing it over to him. “Call me sometime?”

“You can count on it.” Bellamy grabbed his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and Clarke watched as he made his exit. Admittedly there was a huge part of her that was sad to see him go, wishing they could have continued for at least a little longer, but she found that there was another part of Bellamy that was unfairly attractive, and she certainly didn’t mind watching it walk away from her.


	11. Battlefield Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Bellamy is on his third tour when he gets injured and Clarke happens to be the army medic to help him."

“Griffin! Get your ass over here!”

Clarke looked up from the ankle she was wrapping on Monroe, pushing forward as soon as Monroe promised her it was ok. Gunshots rang in the background, but Clarke was so focused on the scene in front of her that they barely registered. She fell to the ground next to Miller and the guy he had half dragged/half carried away from the gunfire, blood pulsing from his shoulder at a pace far too fast to make her anywhere near comfortable.

“What happened?” Clarke questioned, applying pressure as she waited for the words.

“A bullet shot straight through his shoulder.”

“Straight through? In front out back?” Miller nodded, his eyes staying locked on the guy’s shoulder. “His name?”

“Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.”

“Ok, Bellamy,” Clarke began, “I’m going to need you to grit your teeth and get through this. Think of whatever makes you happiest, think of it right now, and think hard.”

Bellamy groaned next to her, but it was clear he was in too much pain and possibly too unconscious to properly respond, maybe not even understand. She pushed down a little harder, an animalistic scream ripping from his throat, and Clarke buckled down and got to work.

* * *

“I’m dead, right?”

“No you’re dramatic, believe it or not there’s a difference,” Clarke replied. She finished switching out the bandage, making sure to cover it up as fast as she could manage as soon as Bellamy started to look curiously over. His voice was gravelly, tired, but it wasn’t out of place considering the unconscious state he had found himself in until that moment. His voice seemed to fit him surprisingly well, and it was nice for Clarke to have an  _actual_  person to correlate with the body she had been staring at and working on for days on end.

“So I’m going to live?” he joked.

“Need I repeat dramatic,” she shot back. “Yes, you’ll be perfectly fine.”

Bellamy tried to push himself up with his good arm, barely getting a few inches up before Clarke moved forward, fluffing the pillow behind him so he could stay vertical. “I wouldn’t have been though.” His eyes were trained on her, and Clarke shifted back and away from the steely gaze.

“Miller saved your life,” Clarke stated.

“I’ll thank him too, then,” Bellamy responded.

“You soldiers and your need to repay debts,” Clarke stated. Bellamy smirked, but it was clear even that was tiring to him. It was lazy, but Clarke couldn’t blame him. He’d had a hell of a last few days.

“You know I was set to go home in two weeks? This is my third tour, nearly four years I’ve been in Hell on and off and two weeks before I’m finally free I get shot in the fucking shoulder. What’s that say about my luck,” he responded. Clarke sat herself down on the edge of his bed, sparing a glance around to make sure everyone else was doing fine. It felt oddly intimate to prop herself so close to him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I don’t think there’s a such thing as luck,” Clarke answered. Bellamy raised an eyebrow in question, and she shrugged in reply. “There’s this – war, destruction, horror - and a battle where the enemy is indistinguishable. We’re all here and we barely know what we’re doing. There isn’t luck, it’s just shit and hoping for the best.”

“Why in the world are you here then?”

“Why are you?”

Bellamy leaned forward, replying barely above a whisper. “I asked first.”

“Is that how we’re playing? Wow, ok,” Clarke spoke. “My dad was in the army and my mom is a doctor. It just made sense to follow the beliefs my father instilled in me and the thing I was good at.”

“Is he still in the army?”

“No, died a few years back,” she asked. Bellamy winced, but it slipped off of his features almost as quickly as it had come. Clarke sent a soft smile, trying to let him know it was ok. “You diverting the subject on me? Why you here?”

“Guess I’m just stupid enough to believe in a better world,” Bellamy replied. “A lot of people from my neighborhood enlist when we graduate High School, it’s just kinda what’s done, limited options mostly. I guess the biggest surprise was how good I was at it.”

“That I understand,” Clarke agreed.

“How so?”

“I came from a well off family, no worries about being able to afford college, and when I told my mom I wanted to be an army medic, well, she was certain I was going to regret it instantly. Who knew working on my feet, right in battle, was what I was great at. She thought I was either following my dad, trying to spite her, or following Miller. Guess she doesn’t understand doing something for yourself.”

“You know Miller?”

“Him and I have known each other practically our whole lives. His dad’s a policeman and my mom has stitched him up more times than either of them could count. Guess it makes sense that we’re keeping the tradition alive.”

A small smile crept up Bellamy’s lips, and he released a small chuckle at her words. Clarke joined in, but she noticed the wince he released and stood up. “Time for a little more medication.”

“It going to knock me out?” he questioned, a brave face already replacing the small admittal of pain from moments earlier.

“‘Fraid so. Sleep is the best thing for recovery,” Clarke commented.

“How am I going to keep flirting with you if I’m unconscious?” he proposed. Clarke halted her actions, the needle falling to her side as she turned around. Her eyes rolled dramatically, but a smile sat firmly on her lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Clarke stepped forward, moving the needle over his vein, but just as she was going to puncture his skin he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“When do you go home?” he asked.

“I’m here for another six months…” she trailed off warily. “Why?”

“You think you got time for a date with an esteemed war veteran?”

“Oh, you have a friend?” she mocked. Bellamy rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow as he waited for her to continue. “I’ll check my pocketbook, but I’m sure I can manage to fit you in.”

“Good, I’ll be waiting.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she released, but his hand didn’t let go off her wrist as she put the needle in, only slackened. His eyes followed her movements until they fluttered shut, and Clarke watched his hand fall to his side.

Clarke couldn’t keep the small smile off of her face as she noticed him asleep, his face smooth and peaceful. War wasn’t fun, it was devastating and bloody, but it had its upsides, things that made being on the front worth it, and Bellamy Blake? He was one  _hell_  of a good upside.


	12. The Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I accidentally took your notebook thinking it was mine and you have really nice handwriting and cute doodles."

“Blake, you forget your notebook?” Miller questioned, holding up the blue spiral Bellamy was pretty sure he had just shoved into his backpack.

“Must be,” he replied, grabbing it from him. He really had been up for too long if he couldn’t even remember whether he’d put away his notebook or not. The first thing he needed to do when he got back to his apartment was go to bed and sleep off all of the nonstop school and work he’d been committed to the last few days. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem, see you tomorrow for movie night?” he asked, already walking backwards away from him, his footsteps slow and deliberate. 

“Of course,” Bellamy confirmed, waving him away as Miller turned and jogged out of sight. Bellamy tiredly pushed forward, making his way back to his apartment. By the time he had walked up three of the longest flights of stairs in his life (the elevator had been out for two weeks already and Bellamy was getting ready to start a revolt against the landlord), Bellamy was practically ready to pass out.

The notebook was still in his hands as he had never stopped to shove it in his bag, throwing it at the table just to have it sprawl open. A drawing caught his eye as he moved to grab a soda from the fridge, and he halted in his actions as he realized that he had most certainly never drawn  _that_.

The penmanship was too clean and certainly too cute to be his own. Every letter was practically perfect, the slightest bit of flair but concise and easily read. His own penmanship was filled with sharp edges and practically illegible scrawl. The notes were clearly thought out, a simple organization system, but the funniest part was the drawings that covered the edges.

The juxtaposition between the cleanly notes and the wild doodles was practically hilarious, and Bellamy found he needed to sit down so he could look through all the pages. There were several rough sketches of people he did not know, some landscapes or random scenes he didn’t understand, and sometimes images that were obviously straight from her imagination (he assumed the notebook belonged to a her, the penmanship lead him to believe so).

After a few minutes of devouring the notebook in front of him, he started to feel a little creepy about staring at something he had no idea who the owner was. He flipped through the pages, looking for some kind of identification, and found a name printed in thick black sharpie on the inside of the front cover.

**Property of Clarke Griffin**

Bellamy racked his brain trying to remember just who Clarke Griffin was. She was obviously in his class, which meant logically he should remember her to some extent. The class wasn’t exactly huge, but Bellamy actually liked the lectures and didn’t spend much time letting his eyes trail around the room.

“I’m home,” Octavia called, disturbing the silence with the clacking of her boots and the jangling of her keys. “What are you doing?”

“Do you know a Clarke Griffin?” Bellamy asked, his curiosity winning out. Octavia pondered over the words, her eyes lighting up.

“Yes, Lincoln has talked about her in the art class he’s the TA in. Apparently she’s crazy talented,” Octavia explained. “Oh! She knows Jasper, too. Why?”

“I have her notebook,” Bellamy declared, holding it up as evidence. Octavia grabbed it from his hands before he could pull it away and jumped up on the counter, scanning through the pages and whistling slowly.

“She  _is_  pretty good. You want me to get her number for you?” she asked, looking up excitedly from the pages.

“Why are you always so excited about trying to get me girls’ numbers?”

“I don’t want you to die alone with a mob of cats as your only friends like you’re bound to at this rate,” she joked. “I worry about you, big brother.”

“Don’t,” he urged, stepping toward her and pulling the notebook from her hands. “But do get me her number. We have a paper due for this class on Friday and she probably wants her notes.”

“I already have it,” she told him, grabbing his phone and plugging it in. “The second you said her name I texted Jasper.”

“Octavia!” he exclaimed, staring at her with wide eyes as she shrugged innocently in return. She pushed the phone back into his hand, pushing off of the counter.

“Dying. Alone. With  _cats_ ,” she reminded, already sashaying down the hallway. “I hit dial by the way.”

Bellamy swore underneath his breath, yanking the phone up to his ear and cursing his sister with everything he had.

“Hello? Who is this?” a voice spoke, resonant but light at the same time. She sounded tired, much like him he reasoned, and he felt even worse about the accidental kidnapping of her notebook.

“Hi, you don’t know me. Bellamy Blake,” he greeted, cringing at the awkwardness with which he spoke.

“I do know you, you’re in my Early Imperial Art History class,” she greeted. “Oh my god, wait, do you have my notebook? Please tell me you found my notebook and that’s why you’re calling.”

“I did,” he stated, purposefully omitting the ‘I accidentally stole it because I was too delirious to realize I already had my own’ part. “Do you want to meet up somewhere so I can get it to you?”

“Yes, yes yes  _yes_ ,” she breathed out in relief. “Writing this essay with no notes would have been impossible, you are a lifesaver.”

“Where do you want to meet?” he asked, trying to keep the exhaustion from his voice. Moving from his apartment was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, but he felt bad for the poor girl. He wasn’t going to tell her he couldn’t leave because he was too tired to go down and up his stairs. Oh  _God_ , he had forgotten he was going to have to use the _stairs_.

“I don’t want you to have to go- Hey! Would you two just shut up already? Oh my God,” she yelled, her voice carrying loud and clear over the phone. “Sorry, my roommate and her on and off again boyfriend are having a CLEARLY INAPPROPRIATE argument when Clarke is TRYING TO STUDY.”

“You just talked about yourself in third person,” he stated.

“I am very tired,” she admitted. “I’ll just come to your apartment and pick it up, I’ll have to go to the library if I want to get any work done at this rate anyways. That ok?”

“Perfect,” he agreed, telling her the address. She thanked him and clicked the phone off, leaving him standing in his kitchen and now waiting for a girl from his class he couldn’t even remember to come pick up a notebook with bizarrely original and beautiful artwork. He wasn’t quite sure when his life had turned to this, but he was starting to think sleep was becoming more and more of an appealing option.

It was only ten minutes later when a knock came on the door. Bellamy took a deep breath and grabbed the notebook off of the table, striding toward the entrance. His hand hovered over the doorknob for a few seconds too long, but then he grasped it tightly and pulled the door open.

As soon as the blonde in front of him came in full view, it became apparent that he  _did_  remember her from his class. Why he couldn’t connect the face and the name was beyond him, but he had remembered listening to her during several class discussions and being rather impressed by the things she was saying. She was beautiful, too, he admitted, which also made her enjoyable to look  _at_  when she spoke.

“Bellamy, thank you,” she broke the silence, pulling the book out of his hands. He nodded once, trying to hide the smile that threatened to fight a way on his lips. She just looked too adorable, her hair flopping on the top of her head in a messy bun and a High School basketball shirt that was two sizes too big for her falling off her shoulder.

“Are you really heading to the library?” he questioned.

“That or listen to my roommate yell at her boyfriend. They honestly need to break up already, she’s way too good for him,” she spoke with a soft sigh. “You probably do not care, though.”

“You’re…fine,” he comforted, struggling to find the right words to say. God, he was  _way_  too out of practice for this and she was  _way_  too gorgeous for him to be able to speak coherently.

“The essay has to get done,” she stated, nodding several times. “So…thank you again.”

“Not a problem,” he replied, watching her nod once more before turning the other way. “Clarke!” he called out in a panic, watching her whip back around with wide, curious eyes. “You have really nice handwriting and doodles.”

“Thanks?” she answered with a chuckle, amusement clear on her face and through her words.

“The library kinda sucks at this time of night and since we’re both working on the same essay, do you just want to stay here? We could work on it together,” he offered. She seemed taken aback by the words at first, but a slow smile stretched across her lips.

“Yes, that would be about 100 times better than the library,” she claimed. “Are you sure you want to let some strange girl into your apartment?”

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about coming into a strange man’s apartment?” he proposed.

“True,” she stated, “but I have pepper spray.”

“My sister is down the hall, if that’s comforting to you at all,” he provided.

“It is,” she confirmed. “Do you happen to have any food you could offer to a poor, hungry college student?”

“I was thinking about ordering some Chinese food…that offer any interest to you?” he suggested.

“Bellamy,” she exclaimed, “you might just be my new best friend.”

Bellamy shifted his gaze down for a second as a smile took over his face before looking back up at her, stepping to the side of the doorway and letting her pass through. As she plopped down onto his couch like she belonged there, asking him for the wifi password, Bellamy was fairly sure stealing her notebook was going to be one of the best mistakes he’d made yet.


	13. Class Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “We argued so much during a class discussion that we both got kicked out of class and we’re still arguing outside of class."

Clarke’s breaths became more irregular as she listened to Bellamy Blake take the discussion into his own hands,  _like he always did,_ and she knew within seconds of him beginning to speak she was going to have to argue every stupid,  _wrong_ word that was coming from his mouth. There may or may not have been a few groans of fellow classmates as she popped her hand high into the air, but she was far too used to it at this point to care.

“Yes, Ms. Griffin, it wouldn’t be a class if I didn’t have you say something that contradicted every single thing Mr. Blake reasoned. Please, share your thoughts with the rest of us,” Mr. Kane drawled, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Clarke was fairly sure Professor Kane secretly enjoyed their little rampages in class, even if he always seemed aggravated with them, so she didn’t feel bad as she pushed forward.

“I just think that Bellamy is entirely wrong,” Clarke began.

“Oh, that’s something new,” someone muttered to her right, but she only sent a quick glare in the direction before continuing on with her opinion. “Just because there are very few roles of women in the piece doesn’t mean he’s saying nothing about women. I think Conrad’s lack of women is actually a way to showcase the importance of men. The women in this text are merely just another mouthpiece to learn more about the men around them.”

“You’re really just proving my point,” Bellamy spoke up. “The women aren’t integral, they don’t do anything, which is Conrad just saying that they don’t matter.”

“But you’re saying that they just don’t matter at all when in reality it’s so much  _bigger_ than that. He’s saying women have importance, but only because they are another thing that men can use to speak about themselves. They’re merely devices to highlight the men around them and amplify their own messages.”

“This novel has nothing to do with gender separation, princess,” Bellamy spoke up, his words heavy and patronizing, “it’s about the corruption of humanity. We don’t need a feministic analysis of it when there’s so much material seen throughout the book to discuss.”

“Ok, thank you for your opinions,” Mr. Kane began. “Enlightening as always, does anyone el-“

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t care about women in text? That they aren’t part of humanity in general?”

“Stop pulling words out of my mouth,” Bellamy groaned, “you know that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“Then what are you trying to say? From what I see he’s making a statement that only men are involved in the corruption that’s evident in our world, and all we are seeing of women is either an idealized view of innocence or an amplification of whatever the men are doing around them. By leaving them out of the view of humanity in general he’s saying they’re a different species, something incomparable to men.”

“Mr. Blake and Ms. Griffin, enough,” Kane ordered, his words sharp.

“Wouldn’t that be perfect for you, though?” Bellamy spoke, his words gaining in volume as he ignored Kane’s warning. “You like to believe you’re better than all the rest of us already, I thought you’d like that.”

“Shove it up your ass, Blake,” Clarke snapped. The room erupted in sounds as their classmates murmured and laughed. The second the words were out of her mouth, Clarke knew she had let Bellamy get too deep under her skin  _again_ , and she shut her eyes as she waited anxiously for the anger of Kane to settle around them.

“You two, out of my classroom,” he yelled. “Come back when you two are ready to have a discussion like adults. Today is definitely not that day.”

Clarke grabbed her bag, throwing it over her shoulder and stomping out of the room as quickly as she could manage. Anger pulsed through her veins, practically crackling through her hair, and as soon as she had made it several steps past the doorway, she had already turned toward Bellamy with harsh eyes and a fuming expression.

“Out of my way, blondie,” he ordered as soon as the door had shut behind the two.

“I hate you,” she seethed, narrowing her eyes.

“The feeling is mutual,” he argued, trying to push past her again just to have her grab on to his upper arm and push herself in front of him.

“Why do you have to start everything? You think I’m always wrong about  _everything_ ,” she pushed.

“Hold on,  _I_  start everything? Are you sure you don’t have that wrong? Because as far as I’m concerned all  _I_  did was start a discussion that you pushed toward anarchy. You’re the one who couldn’t handle talking about something without going batshit crazy and telling me off in front of everyone,” Bellamy retorted, his eyes steely as he moved forward with small steps.

“You rile me up on purpose,” she shot back. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong. I couldn’t care less about you, I promise,” he declared. “Any debates that start in that room are just because you think too highly of yourself and have an uncontrollable need to always be right, that’s all.”

“Oh, so you have nothing to do with it? The only reason they get out of control are because of  _me_?” she replied, her eyebrows pushing high up. “Bullshit.”

“Think what you want princess, it’s probably because you’re so obsessed with me that you have such a constant need to start shit.”

“Obsessed with you?  _I’m_ obsessed with  _you_?” she exclaimed, sputtering out a laugh. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my entire life. I’m not the one with a nickname for the person I can’t stand.”

“It’s because I don’t bother to know your name,” he replied smugly.

“So you’re saying that you don’t even know my name?” Clarke pushed, taking a step forward so that their angry breaths mingled together in front of them, only about a foot sitting between them. “Because last time I checked you were practically in love with me.”

“I  _hate_ you. I despise everything you do, you entitled, spoiled brat,” he spat, stepping forward so Clarke’s back hit against the wall. Clarke waited for him to step back as she narrowed her eyes, but he stayed close in her personal space, staring her down with as much heat as he could possibly muster.

“Shut up,” she whispered out between clenched teeth. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, because if anyone is spoiled or entitled in this room, I’d be willing to bet it’s you, you self-centered  _asshole_. You think everyone should just revolve around you, doing whatever you think, but the world wasn’t made for you.”

“It wasn’t made for you either,” he stated, throwing his hands up around them. “Why do you get such sick, twisted pleasure in playing these stupid games, Clarke?”

“See, you do know my name,” she replied with a smug smile.

“Jesus, shut  _up_ ,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Make me,” she told him through the smug smile that had stayed stubbornly on her lips. Before the words had even fully fallen from her lips. still dripping from her mouth, Bellamy’s hands had grabbed at the sides of her face, his lips coming forcefully down onto hers.

Clarke stumbled back hard into the wall behind her, surprise disappearing in seconds to mere desire as she reciprocated. Her hands instinctively grabbed at his open plaid shirt, pulling him in as close as she could manage. His hands left her face as her arms wrapped around his neck, moving instead toward her thighs. Clarke jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he held her effortlessly with his arms.

“I hate you so much,” she moaned out between furious kisses.

Bellamy leaned down to her neck, kissing a trail up to her ear and sucking quickly on her earlobe. He took a quick break, whispering into her ear, “God, princess, I hate you too.”

She recaptured his lips at the admission, hungrily moving her lips against his. She captured his bottom lips between her teeth, nipping softly, and she couldn’t help the moan that released from the back of her throat at the feel of him so close to her. His hands roamed over her thighs, sturdily holding her up, and Clarke had never felt so on fire in her entire life.

“We’re still ten feet from a classroom,” she spoke suddenly, pulling back from him. The truth hit her suddenly, like being dumped with cold water, and she groaned and hit her head against his shoulder “This is so inappropriate.”

His hands released her thighs and she unclasped her legs from around his sides and slid them back to the ground, moving back to her standing position. She was a little weak, stumbling back, but he grabbed on to her waist and held her up. “You ok?”

“Yea,” she breathed out, her tone light and breathless. He smirked widely at it, taking a sense of pride, and Clarke rolled her eyes at him despite the small smile that had found a spot on her lips. “Who knew the whole time all we’ve really needed to do was make out.”

“I still kinda hate you,” he admitted with a slight shrug, but the words weren’t anywhere near as cruel as they would have been ten minutes ago.

“Same,” she agreed.

“Are you busy right now?” he questioned.

“It just so happens I’m free,” she joked. “Some asshole got me kicked out of my lecture.”

“Wow, some brat did the same to me,” he mocked. “You want to go back to my room? We can start arguing Chaucer next if you want. See where it leads.”

“Sounds good to me,” she declared, grabbing Bellamy’s hand and pulling him away from the classroom, throwing him an impish smile over her shoulder, “but I think I can manage to find something  _way_ better for us to do than discuss literature.”


	14. Adventures in Sober Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Soberly babysitting drunken friends at a party AU. Bellarke.

Bellamy knew that Octavia had invited all of her friends over, that the chance that their plans involved alcohol was nearly unquestionable, but out of all the things he anticipated seeing when he tiredly pushed through his apartment door, the scene in front of him was certainly  _not_  one of them. The huge group of them were all splattered out across the various couches and chairs, pairs of them cuddled together or merely sprawled, but that was not surprising. It was practically assumed that the group of them would all end the night that way, Bellamy had seen and participated in it enough to know that, but Clarke sitting in a chair that was placed on top of the coffee table, reading a children’s book aloud to the group of them?  _That_  was certainly new.

“I’m sorry, what the  _hell_  are you doing?” Bellamy exclaimed. Clarke snapped toward him, hopping off of the table and pushing forward. It was clear that Clarke was nowhere near sober herself as she wobbled over, exerting too much effort in getting to him quickly and falling right into his chest.

“Shh,” she warned, pushing her finger sloppily to his lips. “They’ve almost fallen asleep, don’t wake the children.”

“You’re drunk,” Bellamy stated, a small chuckle pushing out as Clarke narrowed her eyes and slapped him on the chest just to fall into him again. Bellamy grabbed on to her upper arms, helping her to a more stable position and then slowly releasing his hold.

“No shit, you dumbshit,” she hissed.

“Wow, you’re a mean drunk tonight,” Bellamy grumbled, throwing his bag on the kitchen counter and slipping out of his jacket.

“You’ll wake the kids,” she repeated sternly, adding in a fierce nod of her head to accentuate the words.

“Claarrrkkke,” Jasper whined, pushing himself up from his position on the ground. “What happens to Fergus the Kitty Cat? Does he finally get his milk?”

“See what you did?” she accused, stumbling back to the coffee table. Clarke stopped in front of the table, slowly crawling back on to it despite it being only a foot off the ground, and finally placed herself back in the chair. “Ok, guys, alm- almost to the end.”

“I can’t see the picture,” Octavia mumbled, crawling further into Lincoln’s side.

“It’s cause your eyes are closed,” Clarke declared, clearing her throat as she fumbled through the pages of the children’s book to find her spot.

“Oh,” Octavia stated, slowly opening her eyes and smiling as she regained her sight.

Bellamy waded through the bodies that were haphazardly laid out around the room, all of them moving to varying degrees, and stepped toward Clarke. “Clarke,” he whispered calmly, keeping his voice low enough that no one else could hear, “are you babysitting them?”

“They’re almost ready for bed,” she replied with a whisper that was far too loud to be discrete. It seemed that the others didn’t notice, however, and Clarke smiled triumphantly at herself.

“ _You’re_  almost ready for bed,” Bellamy declared, realizing that it was now going to be his responsibility to take care of all of his drunken friends. Next time he was just going to pretend to be sick and not go into work; he would much rather get drunk with his friends than have to clean up after them.

“Them first,” she ordered. “Now if you want to hear the thrilling concl- conclu-  _conclusion_  of Fergus,” she stumbled out, “take a seat next to Monty and Miller. Then you can be my second-in-command when we put them away to sleep.”

Bellamy sighed, but he recognized the resolute, steely gaze Clarke held. Even drunk she was ridiculously stubborn, he realized, and the thought brought a smile to his lips as he turned toward the couch she had indicated.

Monty and Miller were not  _sitting_  on the couch it would seem, but actually wrapped up in the other. Bellamy had seen his friends drunk before, hell he’d done it with them a million times, but he wasn’t sure he had actually ever seen any of them this drunk before, drunk enough to elicit such physical contact between them all. Monty was sitting on Miller’s lap, his hands wrapped around his neck and his face buried in his shoulder, and Miller was kindly reciprocating with his own arms wrapped around Monty’s waist.

“Miller,” Bellamy whispered, watching his friend drunkenly respond, slow and dazed. “Anything you want to say about _that_?”

Miller smiled slowly at his friend, his eyes seeming to barely be able to stay open, and he shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Don’t scare him away, I don’t think he knows what’s going on.”

Bellamy shook his head, looking away from the two idiots he happened to call his friends and scanning the rest of the group while Clarke read the children’s book above him. Raven was leaning up against the couch, her feet placed in Murphy’s lap, and his hand was rubbing over her calf. By the looks of it, Bellamy was willing to assume he wasn’t really all that aware that he was doing it. Finn, Harper, and Maya were all laying on their stomachs on the ground, their heads close together as they lazily whispered things to one another, periodically halting in their actions to watch Clarke read the story.

“And Fergus the cat, after a long day of work, finally got his bowl of milk,” Clarke finished, the room going still as she flipped the book shut.

“Encore! Encore!” Jasper screeched, clapping enthusiastically.

“Come on, buddy,” Bellamy stated, pushing himself up from the couch and moving toward Jasper, grabbing on to his arms and pulling him to a standing position, “we’ll set you up in Miller’s room. You too, Finn.”

Finn popped up, narrowing his eyes at Bellamy for a second before planting a sloppy kiss on each Maya and Harper’s cheek and stumbling over to the two. “What about Miller?” Finn questioned, his words coming out loud and obnoxious.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to get him to move from that position,” Bellamy scoffed, glancing quickly over his shoulder to look at Miller and Monty still glued together. “Here we go.”

Jasper flopped immediately down in the bed, Finn taking a little more time as he eyed the bed before falling into it face first and promptly passing out. Bellamy grabbed the comforter from its spot on the ground and threw it over Jasper, tucking him in with a groan as Jasper made a whine.

“Ok, go to bed,” Bellamy concluded, moving toward the door.

“ _Psp_ ,” Jasper hissed, attempting to gain Bellamy’s attention. He slowly turned back to the sound, noticing the scrunched up expression on Jasper’s face. “I have a secret.”

“Ok…” Bellamy trailed off, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I think I like Maya,” he whispered. “Do you think I have a chance?”

“Of course,” Bellamy sighed, “now get some sleep.”

Jasper hummed happily, pushing himself further into the covers before closing his eyes and attempting to sleep. Bellamy shook his head at the antics, pushing through the door to notice that Clarke and the girls were gone. Octavia and Lincoln had expanded on the couch, the pair of them snoring loudly together, while Monty and Miller had barely moved, the only difference being Miller’s feet now resting on the coffee table and his head now laying against the back of the couch.

Bellamy moved toward Octavia’s bedroom to find Clarke tucking Maya and Harper in, singing softly underneath her breath while the two girls kept giggling to one another.

“Harper, you’re so pretty,” Maya mumbled, reaching out and petting Harper’s hair.

“Maya,” Harper stated, “stop! You’re the prettiest!”

“Should we kiss?” Maya whispered, the words confused.

“No!” Clarke exclaimed, grabbing a pillow from the edge of the bed. “You two always want to kiss when you’re drunk, stop.” She slapped the pillow down between their faces. “Now sleep.”

“Ok,” Harper yawned, cuddling into her pillow. Clarke looked toward Bellamy, holding out her arms for him to help her up. She stumbled into him, nearly falling to the ground before Bellamy caught her around the waist.

“Where are Murphy and Raven?” Bellamy questioned, not releasing his hold on her as he guided her through the door.

“I think…” she trailed off, stopping in her tracks and staring at the wall in front of her. Bellamy snapped his fingers in front of her face and she snapped back, smiling slightly over at him. “Raven started puking and then Murphy laid down in the tub so he could watch over her. I think they’re still there.”

“Murphy’s slept in worse,” Bellamy concluded, leaving it at that. “Hey, where were you planning on heading princess?”

Clarke smiled slyly over at him, sending him a wink before tripping over her legs again and grabbing on to his arm. “Bell? Walking is really hard.”

“Oh my god, princess,” he groaned, sliding an arm underneath her legs and carrying her bridal style toward his bedroom.

“Thanks,” she mumbled out between yawns, shoving her face into his neck. “You smell nice.”

“That’s good,” he muttered, laying her down into his bed. He moved toward his closet to grab a shirt to change into, but heard Clarke groan behind him. “You ok?”

“Why’d you leave?” she whined. “It’s all cold now.”

“You are so ridiculously  _needy_ ,” he released with a chuckle, slipping into one of his weathered High School football shirts and taking off his pants. Bellamy moved back toward the bed, sliding in next to Clarke and pulling the blanket around them.

“Am not,” she argued, but as soon as he had gotten situated back in the bed Clarke had moved toward him, wrapping herself up in him and laying her head on his chest.

“If I let you sleep like this you’ll be mad at me in the morning,” he pointed out.

“Morning me is so  _lame_ ,” she replied, tugging herself closer to his side.

“I’ll make sure to tell her that,” he joked. Clarke hummed into his shoulder, nodding slowly. Clarke yawned, her body going still next to his, and Bellamy found himself drifting off to the sounds of Clarke’s soft breaths beside him, slow and calming and  _steady._


	15. Chocolate Volcano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I'm a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and I'm scared to ask”

It was a fairly empty night when the blonde strolled in, bare feet padding against the floor as she mumbled to herself and plopped down on a bar stool. She was hard to ignore, Bellamy realized, not only because she held a sort of wild beauty, but also because she walked in with no shoes, a tear in her shirt that was clearly not purposeful, and the sort of angry eyes that Bellamy liked to keep an eye on just for the sake of his other customers.

“What can I do for you?” Bellamy questioned, throwing the towel he had been wiping the bar down with over his shoulder.

“Chocolate Volcano,” she ordered, her face clear and determined. Bellamy had no idea what she was talking about, but the steely eyes she was staring at him with made him contemplate death rather than admit his obliviousness. “You don’t know how to make it, do you?” she grumbled. “Jesus, where’s Wick when you need him.”

“He’s not working tonight,” Bellamy provided helplessly. Clarke rolled her eyes, leaning forward and pointing with an elongated finger to something behind him.

“No shit,” she replied. “The directions are on the notecard.”

Bellamy turned in the direction she had suggested, noticing the wrinkled notecard taped to the wood behind the vodka bottles and going to retrieve it. He recognized Wick’s lazy scrawl as he eyed over it, a chuckle releasing underneath his breath as he read his words.

_For the blonde who probably looks like she was mauled by a bear because her ex-boyfriend is a stalker, a.k.a. Clarke, the best friend of the most beautiful human being in the world who you are also in love with….THE CHOCOLATE VOLCANO._

_For optimal deliciousness one needs two scoops of chocolate ice cream, some vanilla vodka (use the good stuff, she deserves it), white chocolate liqueur, a huge ass squirt of chocolate syrup, and whipped cream to top it all off. Put all the stuff in the blender, blend, then add the whipped cream._

_Serve with an umbrella and a wink._

Bellamy finished reading over the words, raising an eyebrow at the blonde across the bar from him. He reached down below him, finding the freezer and pulling out a gallon that he hadn’t even known was there.  “How did you warrant a special recipe and Wick keeping a gallon of chocolate ice cream that’s labeled with your name?”

“I set him up with my friend,” she replied with a shrug. “Now, please make it a bit quicker on that chocolate volcano.”

Bellamy snorted, narrowing his eyes slightly, but did just as he was told. A minute later he poured the liquid into a tall glass, watching Clarke’s eyes light up as she hungrily grabbed it from him. “So you’re the girl that Wick refers to as ‘the goddess who set me and my future wife up’?”

“I’ve seen some people in love with Raven in my day, but my god has Wick got it bad,” Clarke released in a laugh. She smiled at the drink placed in front of her, taking a huge sip from the concoction and sighing loudly to herself. “Much better.”

“So is it true you have a stalker ex-boyfriend? Or were you actually mauled by a bear?” Bellamy asked, leaning his hip against the bar. Clarke eyed him for a second before letting a small smile creep up her lips. leaning forward on her hand.

“Stalker ex-boyfriend, I had to escape out of the fire escape, ripped up my shirt, lost my shoes when he exited the apartment and I had to book it and so here I am,” she explained.

“I think you should call the police,” Bellamy suggested with a chuckle. Clarke shrugged across from him, a sort of smirk playing at her lips. The sound of a phone vibrating hit their ears, and Clarke shifted and groaned as she grabbed it from her back pocket. Her eyes flickered to the caller id and she groaned even louder.

“Is that the asshole?” Bellamy questioned. Clarke nodded once, and Bellamy grabbed the phone from her hands and pulled it to his ear. “What the hell do you want?”

“Who is this?” the voice came in return, confused and slow.

“This is Clarke’s boyfriend, and I’m starting to get pretty pissed off at all the calling you’ve been doing. I’m going to need you to get the hell away from my girlfriend.”

“I- I didn’t know,” he stuttered back in reply.

“That was clear. Now stop being so pathetic and get the hell out of her life. Clear?”

“Crystal,” he replied, the phone call clicking to an end. Bellamy turned back toward Clarke, her eyes wide as she grabbed the phone back from him.

“That was pretty rude of you,” Clarke stated, her words even. It was hard for Bellamy to tell if she was truly upset with him or not because her face remained still, the only thing truly moving were her eyes as they trailed over his face.

“Just trying to make your life a little easier,” he replied. “I step out of bounds?”

“Entirely,” she answered. “Thank you, though.”

“Any time,” he replied with a shrug. “If you need another chocolate volcano, call me over, got to go help the frat boys.”

Bellamy pushed away from the bar, tapping it twice with his hand before turning away from her. He only made it a few feet before Clarke called out. “Hey!” Bellamy turned back around, an eyebrow raised in questioning. “You never told me your name.”

“Bellamy,” he answered. “It’s Bellamy.”

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she replied, sending a soft smile over her drink. Bellamy nodded once before turning back toward the frat boys, totally incapable of getting the wild blonde and her overly alluring smile out of his mind.


	16. Diner Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I'm in a diner, you appear and I throw all my coffee on my shirt because I was sketching you and you glanced so I got nervous

When Bellamy swaggered into the diner with a wave toward Murphy working behind the counter and a call of hello to Miller, Clarke was hit with the same realization she was hit with every time he entered. If he ever found out how many stupid drawings she had done of his  _stupid_  face she was totally “please don’t call the police on me I promise I’m not a stalker”  _screwed_.

It wasn’t  _her_  fault he had a bone structure she could trace for hours or freckles that were sprinkled almost so perfectly it felt like an artist had put them there, and she certainly hadn’t asked to be burdened by his playful smirks and searching eyes, but alas here she was. All she had was a mediocre hobby that lead her to pathetic hours between her diner shifts spent trying to get his chin dimple mapped to perfection.

If someone was truly looking out for her in this world, he would have decided he really didn’t like the coffee here that much and then maybe he would disappear, allowing her to forget about him. Clarke knew that wasn’t possible, the days he was gone were the days she sketched rough versions of his hands on napkins like a student flipping through flashcards as they tried to push every last scrap of information into their memory, but the lie of it kept her a little more grounded. As he sat down at the counter and took a sip from the coffee Murphy had just slid him, she flipped back through her sketchpad and found the picture she was looking for.

The sketch had started a few days ago on one of her breaks, trying to get the rough lines scratched down before she would forget the scene. His eyes were looking off at something out of frame, the mug held between his hands, and his body held a little weight to it, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t imagine releasing. Clarke put away the charcoal she had been working with and grabbed her pencil, adding some shading behind him to make his profile pop more.

She looked up again, just an innocent glance, but his eyes were already trained straight on her and she gasped in shock, her hand jutting out and hitting her coffee. The liquid moved straight toward her, splattering against her sketch and the shirt.

“Shit,” she groaned. He had caught her redhanded - Clarke didn’t think she was capable of talking herself out of this one.

“Griffin!” he called across the room. Clarke was glad the diner was at least empty; if she was going to have to suffer, at least it wasn’t in front of the regulars. “Didn’t see you over there.”

Clarke wanted to hit her head into the table repeatedly until she gave herself a small enough concussion to fall into oblivion, but instead she grabbed her now coffee-splattered sketchbook and her cup, making her way toward Bellamy.

“What were you working on over there?” Bellamy smirked over at her. Clarke couldn’t tell if she wanted to sketch it or slap it off his face more.

“Nothing of your concern. How’s Octavia?” Clarke questioned, retaining a casual tone as she slid the sketch book out of his reach.

“School. Dancing. Talking about Lincoln a lot. Show me the book.” Bellamy reached out for it just as Clarke slid it further out of his reach, angling her body away from him. He didn’t give up, however, and as he grasped on to her wrist she realized how close their bodies had come during the struggle. His eyes flashed down to her lips and before she could even contemplate what that properly meant, he had reached forward and planted a solid kiss on her lips.

As she melted into his touch the slightest bit, allowing the hand that cupped the side of her face to pull her a little forward, Bellamy pulled the book away from her and held it triumphantly.

“You kissed me to get my  _book_?” Clarke exclaimed.

“I need to see this book,” he reasoned.

“You’re such an ass.” Clarke pushed away from the counter, standing up and glowering over at him. “I can’t believe I waste so much time on you.”

“Clarke.” Bellamy grabbed at her arm as she attempted to storm away, turning her back toward him. She stared up at him, crossing her arms. “What does that  _mean_?”

“You wanted to see that goddamn book so bad, why don’t you take a look, you idiot.”

Clarke didn’t move as he tentatively opened it, treating every page with such a delicate touch Clarke almost felt bad for being so angry. His eyes devoured every sketch, sending only a few confused or amazed glances in her direction before he closed the book and handed it back to her.

“Wow,” he breathed out. “Those are…”

“Creepy,” she finished for him. Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head before meeting her eyes again.

“I was going to say beautiful. Most people would just ask someone out, you know.”

“Most people don’t just kiss someone to get their way,” Clarke replied. “I guess we’re both a little strange then.”

“Hey Clarke?”

“Yes, Bellamy?”

“You have coffee on your shirt.” Bellamy smirked over at her, clearly amused as she grunted in aggravation.

“Oh fuck off, Bellamy.”

“Hey! You better be nice to me or I might not say yes when you ask me out. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing here, Griffin.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed before she opened them to speak. “Will you go on a date with me sometime you insufferable prick.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Clarke perched her mouth open to yell at him some more, just because Bellamy was reaching whole new levels of asshole Clarke hadn’t even realized he was capable of, but he cut her off before she got the chance. Stepping forward, he planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Thank you for the drawings, Clarke. I don’t deserve them,” he whispered.

Clarke suddenly remembered why Bellamy was worth drawing, because behind all of his uncouth words or twisted smirks Bellamy shined as bright as a star. Bellamy smiled down at her, real and full and exuberant, and Clarke could have sworn for a second she was blinded.


	17. Between The Stacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bellarke AU prompt where Bellamy keeps on bailing on his friends invites to parties so he can keep on accidentally running into the cute blonde at the local library

“Come on, Blake, this is apparently the party of the century. Why aren’t you excited about this?” Miller questioned, flopping down on the couch next to him. Bellamy barely looked up over the book in his lap, appraising him for only a second before shrugging his shoulders and looking away. “Thank you for clearing all of that up, it’s very helpful, really.”

“I’ve got an assignment due, ok? I know you don’t give a shit about your classes but some of us have to pass.” Bellamy closed his book and shoved it in his backpack only a foot or so away. Miller whistled low underneath his breath, eyeing him pointedly.

“Wow, something has got you all worked up.”

“I’m sorry man.” Bellamy grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder, halting in his actions and giving a small smile in his direction. “I’m just stressed, I promise I’ll come to the next one, but right now I’ve got to go to the library.”

“You hate the library.” Bellamy rolled his eyes, but Miller sensed something off in his best friend. This hadn’t been the first outing he’d turned down recently, and it just wasn’t like him.

“I don’t hate the library. Right now, it’s a hell of a lot quieter than here and there are books I can actually use on this project.”

“Are you sure? Because I remember you saying it’s a Hell on-”

“Miller,” Bellamy began, his hand already on the door handle, “please drop it.”

Miller watched Bellamy slip through the doorway, shutting the door silently behind him. Something was up with Bellamy, Miller could tell that much, he just had absolutely no idea  _what_  it was. As much as it pained him to bring Octavia in on a plan (she was always too excited, too invested, going far past what was deemed acceptable for the sake of a small prank or insignificant mission), he needed the manpower. He’d just have to talk to her at the party and, hopefully, the two of them would get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Bellamy really hoped Miller wasn’t on to him, mostly because the whole thing was beyond pathetic, but also because the next logical step would be to bring in Octavia and the only thing worse than realizing that Bellamy was a loser who was practically in love with the blonde girl at the library without even knowing her name was Miller and Octavia  _finding_   _out_ about the fact that he was a loser in love with her. The two of them would never let him live it down.

Sneaking through the stacks, Bellamy picked up a few books he needed before heading toward the front desk. She was sitting there, just as he was fairly sure she would be. Everything about her felt like too much, she was too blonde, too beautiful, too engaged as her eyes devoured the words on the page in front of her. Out of the very little Bellamy knew about her he did know this - she was most definitely out of his league.

“Hey, princess, didn’t know you’d be working tonight.” Bellamy made his way up to the counter, leaning heavily on it as her eyes slowly pulled away from the page and looked him over.

“As charming as  _princess_  is,” she spoke, a full dollop of disdain spitting out with the nickname, “you can call me by my name.”

Bellamy eyed her name tag and read the name in his head, repeating it like a mantra. Clarke, Clarke, Clarkeclarke _clarke_. There was something about it that seemed to fit her so well, like now that he knew it was her name there was no way it could have ever been anything else.

“You haven’t been wearing your name tag the last few times I’ve been here, how in the world was I supposed to know?”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, but a smile was already fully in place. She reached out her hand across the counter. “Most people ask. I’m Clarke, nice to formally be introduced, and you are?”

“Bellamy,” he replied. “Are you reading anything interesting?”

“It’s just for a class.” Clarke shrugged. “So, what…you don’t have anything better to do on a Friday night then come to the library?”

“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” he teased. Clarke stared him down, her face unresponsive as she tried to gage if he was serious or not, but her face eventually broke away to a smile as she shook her head in reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer,” she deadpanned.

“I like to think so.” Bellamy shifted, his backpack feeling heavy as he readjusted the straps. “What about you? Working on Friday nights doesn’t bother you?”

“Keeps me out of trouble,” she joked. “It’s quiet, I really don’t have to do anything, and then I have an excuse so I don’t have to third wheel my roommate and her boyfriend. All of that and I get paid…it’s the best of both worlds.”

“You do make it sound pretty good. So does that mean you’ll be here next Friday?”

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“I was just wondering if I was going to see you is all.”

Clarke rolled her eyes again, narrowing them at him when it only caused his smirk to grow. “You’ll see me. Now go get some work done Bellamy and stop bothering me.”

“Aye, aye captain.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“Thanks.” Bellamy’s smirk grew into a shit-eating grin, grabbing his pile of books and heading off into some corner of the library. Clarke pretended not to, but she watched him disappear into the stacks, waiting until he was completely out of sight before returning to her book.

* * *

Bellamy wasn’t kidding when he had said he would see her next Friday, and worse than that, it turned into the Friday after that and then the Friday after  _that_  as well. Miller had tried to get him to go to parties for the last three weeks and failed, every time listening to Bellamy’s lame excuse and letting it slide. Something was very off about the whole thing, and it was becoming abundantly clear that if Miller didn’t find out what it was soon his sanity might just slither down the drain.

“I’m heading out,” Bellamy called. Miller set his laptop to the side, bounding off of the couch and rushing toward the door.

“You said you were going to come out with me tonight.”

“I said I  _might_  go out with you tonight,” Bellamy replied. “I’ve got a huge essay, though, and I really need to get a dent in it. I’m sorry, man, next week?”

“That’s what you said last week.” Miller watched him shrug and give an apologetic smile, but Miller had nothing else to say. He was just going to have to follow him, see where he was going and why he was going there. There was no way he was just going to the library, not unless there was something worth going there for.

As soon as Bellamy was out of the door Miller pulled out his phone, dialing up Octavia with fast fingers. “Octavia,” he began, not even waiting for a hello before diving in, “we’ve got to follow him. He ditched out again.”

“Ok, just give me a few minutes to change into all black and I’ll meet you.”

“Octavia, no,” he pleaded. “Just meet me on State Street in five minutes, will you?”

“Fine,” she groaned. “But one of these times you’re going to let me wear all black.”

“Not a chance.” Miller snapped his phone shut, grabbing his wallet and keys and going to meet Octavia.

State Street was only a few minutes away from his and Bellamy’s apartment and only a few minutes more from the library, providing a perfect halfway mark. As Miller turned on to it, Octavia was miraculously already there and, despite his disapproval, wearing a black hoodie.

“Don’t get mad, I didn’t switch into the black pants. It’s called compromise.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Miller watched as she shuffled, her body in constant motion as she excitedly waited for them to go. “Let’s go see what you’re brother’s up to.”

“What if he isn’t at the library?”

“I’m fairly sure he’s at the library, bringing his book bag would be a pretty big hassle for a cover story when he doesn’t have anywhere to stash it.”

“Do you think we should go in business together as private investigators?” Octavia moved forward, jokingly hiding behind practically every pole they passed before rushing toward the next one and continuing the trend. Miller was really glad no one was out right now, because then he might have to go to the effort of pretending he didn’t know her.

“No, I really don’t. Now can you calm down when we go into the library?”

Octavia groaned underneath her breath, but she didn’t argue anymore as they rushed up the stairs and through the doors. Making their way quietly through the stacks, their eyes on high alert for Bellamy, they made their way toward the information desk just to find him already there, laughing at something the blonde across the counter had just said.

Miller grabbed Octavia’s arm as she released a gasp, pulling them both behind a nearby shelf with a good vantage point. Looking through the books, he noticed the pair of them look around for the sound, but they both shook it off and went back to their conversation.

“I should have known it was about a girl,” Miller grumbled.

“It seems different, though. I mean, he liked her enough to hide her from us.” Octavia reached up, trying to see through the books, but her footing slipped and she knocked a few off of the shelf and right to the ground in a loud clatter of noise.

“For someone so overly concerned with stealth, you’re really  _not_  stealthy.”

“What the hell are you two doing here?”

Miller and Octavia looked up from the pile of books hastily, like a deer caught in a headlight, both of them wearing matching expressions of guilt. Bellamy’s arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowing as they stood up and pushed the books back into place. Miller opened his mouth, preparing to say something, but nothing came out as the blonde from behind the counter showed up at Bellamy’s side, prettier than he had assumed from the distant view.

“Friends of yours?” The girl sent a friendly smile, watching with amusement as the two of them stood stock still. Octavia shook out of her haze first, stepping forward and holding out her hand.

“Octavia Blake.” The blonde took the offered hand, giving a solid shake and opening her mouth to answer, her lips jutting closed as Octavia cut her off. “Now, what are your intentions with my brother?”

“Octavia!” Bellamy exclaimed. Clarke’s head was thrown back with laughter, her eyes glistening jovially.

“I’m Clarke and I didn’t realize I had intentions regarding your brother…” she trailed off, shooting a side glance at Bellamy who was trying very hard to will himself away from the current situation.

“Oh, come on, Clarke, I saw you flirting,” Octavia continued on, smiling impishly.

“Remember the stealth comment? You’re also tactless,” Miller stated. Octavia pushed his arm, ignoring him as he stumbled the slightest bit as her eyes stayed straight on Clarke.

“I hate to see young love halted by two people’s stubbornness.” As Octavia spoke Bellamy slowly brought a hand up to his face, rubbing down the length of it in aggravation. Both Clarke and Bellamy were doing all they could to avoid eye contact with the other, and Miller wished he could go back just a half hour earlier to remind himself  _why_  Octavia should  _never_  be allowed to come to anything.  _Ever_.

“Before this gets any more awkward,” Bellamy declared suddenly, turning toward Clarke. Her eyes rose to meet his, an eyebrow raised in question. “Clarke I like you, obviously so because I’m here every Friday, but I’d like to hang out with you sometime when you aren’t working. What are you doing next Friday?”

“I’m working…” she drawled out.

“Stupid question, obviously, sorry. Saturday?”

“Saturday I happen to be perfectly free.” Bellamy’s face broke into a smile as Clarke spoke, a giddy sort of energy clearly coursing through his body.

“No need to thank me, really, I-”

“I’m not going to, please leave,” Bellamy cut her off.

“Seriously, don’t think anyone’s going to,” Miller spoke at the same time, Clarke laughing in the background.

“Fine. Have fun studying or reading or whatever it is you two are doing.” Octavia left with a dramatic sigh, Miller following closely behind with a shaking head the whole time. He stopped and patted Bellamy on the shoulder briefly before jogging to catch up with Octavia, leaving the two of them alone.

“You didn’t just say yes because my sister and friend were awkwardly standing there, did you?”

“Not entirely,” she teased. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, staying silent as he urged her for more. “Calm down, I meant it.”

“So, Saturday?” Bellamy questioned.

Clarke smiled back, reaching up and planting a soft kiss on his cheek before falling back to her feet, one word declared only in a delicate whisper.

“Saturday.”


	18. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I answered your ad on Craigslist for a last minute date to your high school reunion because you want to show up some ex from high school"

Bellamy tapped his fingers over the countertop, trying his best to retain a calm front. He realized by the worried glances the barista kept shooting his way that he was probably failing quite epically. Taking another deep breath, he drank the last sip of his coffee and felt the caffeine begin to finally set in, jittering through him.

He should have just invited Harper along, or maybe Octavia’s friend Lexa, but he didn’t just want to prove Roma  _wrong_ , he wanted to show her up so bad she was embarrassed. It might have been petty that he was so set on showing Roma that everything she had said about him at the end of High School was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. She had broken his heart, and now that he was older and wiser, he was ready to do the very childish thing of rubbing her errors in her face.

“Bellamy?”

It was a feminine voice, and as Bellamy looked up he found it accompanied with a very feminine body too. She was gorgeous; long, wavy blonde hair that almost resembled a halo, a curvy figure that reminded everyone who gazed upon it that she was a woman, and a coy smile and piercing eyes that were hard to resist. Long story short, she was absolutely  _perfect_ for how he imagined this night going. Bellamy couldn’t help the smile that took over his face at how well his plan was working out.

“Yea,” he answered, catching the relieved smile take over her face. “Nice to meet you Clarke.”

“One sec,” she replied, moving back over to the door and waving. A car that had sat right in front of the entrance zoomed away before Bellamy could see who was inside of it, and Clarke walked back over to him. “My roommate insists that she and sometimes her boyfriend come with so that I don’t get murdered one of these days.”

“You do this often?” Bellamy questioned.

“Every once in a while, helps bring in a little extra income for art supplies,” she replied. “When’s your reunion? Should we start heading out?”

“Yea,” Bellamy answered. “My car is out back.”

“Ok, I need the low down,” Clarke told him, following closely behind. “What’s the mission here? Oh, thank you,” she spoke with a chuckle, looking at Bellamy as he held the car door open for her. She slipped inside and watched him walk around, his graceful air carrying him around. Clarke was surprised by the confidence that radiated from him, generally in a situation like this she could see why the person she was helping needed her help, but Bellamy was the last person she would suspect needing help getting a date.

He was blatantly attractive, the kind of attractive the made girls drool and people incapable of shifting their eyes away. Not to mention, he seemed to be calm and confident, talking to others with ease and a smooth kind of charm that was hard to ignore. Bellamy slipped into the driver’s seat, shooting her a quick look and a smile.

“It’s my High School reunion,” he replied. “I’m hoping to make my ex-girlfriend choke on her words, when she broke up with me at the end of High School she told me that I’d never become anything and I didn’t know how to commit, but I want her to regret the day she ever said it, in a completely mature and adult way I mean.”

Clarke laughed in Bellamy’s favorite way, that way one does when they throw their head back from the pure force of it. Octavia was known to laugh like that too, and it always made Bellamy feel like he’d accomplished something good. Lincoln may have contained the ability to do it much more frequently these days, but Bellamy was still known to be able to accomplish the task from time to time.

“Sounds fairly reasonable to me,” Clarke answered. “So, we’ve been dating for…?”

“A year,” Bellamy answered. “We’re sickeningly in love.”

“Easy,” Clarke promised. “How did we meet?”

“Work?” he suggested. Clarke turned toward him and made a sour face. “Fine, um…you were friends with my sister?”

Clarke sighed. “It’s definitely better. How about something a little more developed, though? I work at the library sometimes on the weekends and you were totally obsessed with me so you would come in and get book recommendations from me and then you finally got the guts up to ask me out.”

“Wait, so I’m the one who was pining?” Bellamy exclaimed. Clarke sent him a wicked smile and he sighed. “Fine, it makes sense.”

“I know, right?” she joked. Bellamy flickered his eyes over to her, feeling the smile spread across his lips after noticing her own grin. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

* * *

“I love your girlfriend,” Miller commented, sliding up next to Bellamy at the bar. “She just had a 20 minute conversation with me about the merits of the modern adaptations of Star Trek versus the classic series.”

“You are such a nerd,” Bellamy pointed out with a shake of his head. Miller shrugged. “You realize we aren’t actually dating, right?”

“Considering you two have apparently been together for a year and I haven’t seen her once or heard you speak her name, yes, I am aware.”

“Where’s Monty? You’re more bearable when your boyfriend is around,” Bellamy responded, jokingly looking around him.

“Oh shut up,” he warned. “But seriously, she’s pretty cool. Maybe you should consider actually dating her.”

“Bellamy!” Roma exclaimed. Bellamy and Miller both whipped toward her, their eyes widening slightly.

“I have to go,” Miller stated, fumbling around as he rushed away.

“Miller! You can’t leave me,” Bellamy hissed. “Miller!”

“Bellamy,” she greeted, moving forward and grasping him quickly into a hug. Bellamy unwillingly responded, patting her awkwardly on the back before pulling back. “How are you doing? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, uh…good,” he stuttered.

“Bellamy, I was just talking to Monty about this film festival and he was saying that it would be so fu-oh, hello there,” Clarke rambled, sliding in next to Bellamy and wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling herself against him.

“Oh,” Roma stuttered, taken aback. “I’m Roma, I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

“I can’t say I have, sorry,” Clarke spoke slowly. “I’m Clarke, Bellamy’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Roma questioned. “I’d love for you two to meet my boyfriend…Finn!”

Bellamy looked down at Clarke, smiling at the mischievous smile that Clarke was sending his way. He was so happy that it was Clarke here with him, helping him with his plan. Anyone else would have been too pushy or too uncomfortable, but having Clarke at his side just felt right. It was so easy to talk with her, and the two of them had the same sense of humor. Bellamy had found himself laughing more than once that night just to look over at her in surprise that she had been able to cause that sort of reaction.

“This is Finn, we met at work,” Roma stated. Bellamy felt Clarke’s hand dig into his side, and he looked down at her quickly with worry. Her eyes were wide, her mouth perched slightly open.

“Finn,” she stuttered out.

“Clarke, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he replied nonchalantly. Finn shot her an easy, wide smile that made Bellamy want to punch him in the face. As friendly as it had been meant to be, there was something distinctly douchey about it.

“I’m here for Bellamy,” she spoke, releasing Bellamy’s name with such sensitivity and compassion Bellamy could have almost swore that it sounded like she was in love with him. He looked down at her and was surprised by the soft smile and eyes she was sending his way. Bellamy tried his best to send it right back, and by the wink she sent him, he figured that maybe he did alright.

“You two seem close, how long have you been together?” Roma asked through a tight-lipped smile.

“A year,” they answered together, chuckling lightly and looking at each other.

“What about you?” Clarke asked.

“About the same,” she shrugged back. “We’ve been talking about marriage recently, though.”

“They probably don’t want to hear about that,” Finn commented with a chuckle.

“That’s very exciting for you guys,” Clarke replied. To her credit, she did sound very genuine, but Bellamy could feel the tightening of her grip and the small bit of anxiety that rippled off of her. Bellamy reached out and grabbed her hand from his waist, interlacing their fingers and rubbing a thumb soothingly over her skin. She seemed to release a sigh of content, feeling calmed by the feel of it.

“Clarke,” Finn began, “what have you been up to?”

Bellamy couldn’t help but be confused by the way Finn seemed to speak to Clarke. It definitely still held a caring to it, the feeling of someone who wouldn’t be able to ever forget the way they felt. He felt an extreme desire to ask more about it, but he knew it wasn’t quite the time or the place for it.

“Well, technically I’m still in Med School, but that’s more to please my mom than anything else. I’m working at the library on occasion, still teaching art at the community center, you know me, not happy unless I’m busy,” she answered with a shrug.

“You’re the only person I know who would make being in Med School sound like a part time job,” Bellamy teased, enjoying the eye roll he received in reply.

Roma shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes wandering over the crowd. “Oh! I think I see Monroe over there. We just  _have_  to go talk to her. It was nice seeing you guys, glad we could catch up. Guess I was wrong about you, Bell.”

Bellamy nodded in goodbye, staring Finn down as he sent a regretful glance over his shoulder at Clarke.

“That was…intense,” Bellamy released in a huff. “Not as satisfying as I thought it would be.”

“Him and I were going to be married once,” Clarke mumbled, staring after the couple as they disappeared into the crowd. She realized that there hands were still intertwined, and her eyes wandered down to them, releasing his fingers from her grasp.

“What happened?” he questioned tentatively.

“I found out that I was the mistress.” Clarke shrugged nonchalantly, smiling sadly over at him. She clearly tried to play it off, but her eyes seemed sadder than they had earlier in the night. It made his chest feel a little tighter, and he wished he could do something to remove that look from her face.

“He seemed like an idiot, really, be glad that you got out of that one,” Bellamy consoled her.

“True,” Clarke answered, her words still a little wistful.

“You want a drink?”

“Oh,  _God_  yes.”

* * *

“She broke my heart, you know,” Bellamy admitted, wiping the sweat from the side of his beer bottle. “We used to talk about being together forever, and then one day she just dropped this bomb on me. It totally ruined me.”

“You don’t seem that ruined to me,” she replied. Bellamy couldn’t resist shaking his head, sending a quick smirk back in her direction.

“You don’t know me that well.”

“We could change that,” she suggested with a shrug. “How about instead of considering this a business transaction, we consider it a first date.”

“That’s very forward of you,” Bellamy replied. “I like that.”

“What do you say? I’ve always loved midnight pancakes…”

“You…” Bellamy trailed off, smiling slightly, “are perfect.”

“Yes, I am,” she joked. “We should probably bring Miller and Monty, though. We have to save them from that Anya chick, she seems strangely angry at everything.”

“It happens to be a primary part of her personality, always has.”

“You get our coats and I’ll get Monty and Miller?”

Bellamy smiled back, sending a wink. “Deal.”


	19. Proposals and Missteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bellamy keeps trying to propose to Clarke, but Monty, Jasper, Raven, Wick and Octavia keep messing it up.

**I. Jasper and Monty**

“Do you want me to pick up some pizza?” Clarke questioned. Bellamy groaned through the phone, racing from the pot of pasta over to the vegetable medley sitting on the pan. Here he was, trying to make an amazing dinner so he could get down on one knee in the middle of it and ask her to spend the rest of her life with him, and she was asking if she should  _pick up pizza_.

“I said I was making dinner, just get yourself here please and be ready to be amazed,” Bellamy replied.

“You’re too confident in yourself,” Clarke laughed back. “I’ll see you in 15 minutes.”

“Perfect,” Bellamy sighed, saying a quick goodbye before shutting the phone off. He grabbed the pot quickly, straining out the noodles before remembering he had to get the tablecloth out of the dryer. He walked as quickly as he could, grabbing it in a rush and moving back to the table where he laid it out.

As he headed back to the kitchen, Bellamy thought he heard the clang of a pan, but he was sure he must have imagined it, unless…

“This pasta is seriously good,” Jasper spoke through a mouthful of the food Bellamy had slaved over for an hour. Monty was sitting on the countertop, nodding along as he scooped a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

“Yea, thanks man,” Monty included. Bellamy wanted to throttle them, standing there eating the food that was meant for him and Clarke, but maybe if he could at least get them out of the apartment before she got back he could salvage it and-

“I’m home! Oh, hey Monty, Jasper, what are we eating?” she called, smiling widely.

Bellamy smiled back, thoughts of murder rushing through his head.

**II. Octavia**

“Where are we going?” Clarke asked, excitement racing through her voice.

“You don’t do surprises very well, do you?” Bellamy joked, watching the scowl that playfully took over her face. “It’ll be fun, I promise,” he assured.

“I don’t trust your promises. Do you remember the hunting trip where we lost connection with the world for three days?” she reminded. Bellamy did remember; he remembered how their phones had stopped working but they had decided to stick it out. In hindsight, that had probably been a colossally horrible idea; if something had happened to one of them it would have been really bad, but it was one of his fondest memories. Just him and Clarke, adventuring around in the woods and hanging out, the two of them and the calm of the nature. He wouldn’t give away the memory for anything.

“You said you loved that trip,” he argued. His hands gripped tightly to the wheel, trying to conceal the nervousness that took him over. If everything went right, he would be proposing to Clarke in less than two hours on a boat in the middle of the lake. Clarke loved the water, the expanse of it, the way the light shimmered off of it, and he knew that she would be having so much fun that the proposal would seem perfect. If only he could get there with noth-

“What was that?” she questioned, some clunking sort of sound coming from the engine. The car started slowing, and Bellamy eased the car to the side of the road.

“Please tell me this is not happening,” he groaned. “What’s wrong with your car?”

“I don’t know! I borrowed it to Octavia and she said…wait a minute,” she began, bending forward and looking at the dash. Lifting a sticker from a banana off of the gas indicator, a low gas levels light appeared. “Sometimes, instead of filling the car back up with gas she pretends she doesn’t see the light. Your sister is a real piece of work sometimes.”

“Usually I would be arguing, but this is just too perfect,” he grumbled out sarcastically.

“It’s fine, we’ll just call someone to come tow us. We can call Raven, maybe she can come pick us up,” Clarke told him, patting his arm comfortingly. “I guess no lake.”

“I guess not,” he sighed out, aggravation clear in the tightness of his shoulders and the low reverberations of his voice.

He was going to kill his sister.

**III. Raven and Wick**

Bellamy leaned against the doorframe, watching Clarke fumble with her keys. “So what’s for dessert, Mr. Blake?” she asked suggestively, raising an eyebrow. He wanted to tell her it was the stupid perfect ring that had been sitting in his pocket for a month, but instead he just smirked back at her, letting her open the door. “I had a great time…” she trailed off as she shut the door behind him, leaning up to him and kissing him firmly on the lips.

“Clarke,” he sighed, grasping her face and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He bent backward, “I have to tell you something.”

“Ok,” she replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the hallway.

“No, seriously,” he told her between a laugh, halting her movement. “You’re the best things that’s ever happened to me, I wan-”

“Wait, this sounds, serious, let me at least turn the light on,” she reassured him, giving his arm a squeeze as she moved toward the light switch.

“Shit!” came a voice from the corner, and Bellamy and Clarke both turned toward the sound to see Wick laying on the couch with Raven, her legs straddling him and her forehead leaning against his chest like she was embarrassed to be found in such a compromising situation.

“Way to ruin a moment,” Bellamy mumbled.

At this rate he was never going to be able to propose. Sometimes he really hated his friends.

**IV. Miller and Monty**

“Come on princess,” Bellamy spoke, the name coming out sweet and endearing. He tugged her through his door, lighting up at the giggle she released.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. Bellamy whipped around, finding his roommate knotted all up in Monty. At the sound, the two of them sprung apart, looking flushed and surprised. Monty smiled sheepishly at the two of them as he fought to regain his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming back here tonight,” Miller replied, looking between them cautiously.

Bellamy really needed to find some friends who didn’t make out every chance they got.

**V. Octavia**

“Did you know that you have a mole on your lower back?” he questioned. Clarke cuddled closer into the blankets and to Bellamy, sighing contentedly as her head laid on the pillow. Her hair was sprawled out around her, a soft light flickering through the windows and laying out across her porcelain skin.

“Is that a good thing?” she questioned, eyeing him with mirth in her eyes.

“Everything about you is a good thing,” he responded.

“Liar,” she joked, a laugh coming out between her lips.

“Ok, when your feet smell it’s pretty horrendous,” he admitted. She gasped, slapping him lightly on the chest.

“Take it back,” she teased. “Don’t deny it, you’d love to smell my gross feet until the end of your days.”

Bellamy gulped, looking down at her in awe. She had no idea how true her words are, how he would honestly do absolutely anything for her. “Hey, Clarke?”

“Yea,” she sighed back.

“I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time, but-”

“Clarke! 911! Your white pants, I need your white pants,” Octavia squealed, rushing through her door and banging around in her closet. “I promise I didn’t notice you and my naked brother currently cuddling under the blankets. If I didn’t need your white pants so bad I would be vomiting right now.”

“Octavia! Get out!” Bellamy yelled.

“Found them! Have fun you two!” she called, slamming the door behind her.

“Your sister needs boundaries,” Clarke groaned.

His sister needed better timing, Bellamy thought.

**VI. Clarke**

The lights dimmed around them, and Bellamy couldn’t stop his knee from bobbing up and down with nerves. He hadn’t initially wanted to do this in such a cliche way, but his friends had left him no other options. More than anything in the world he wanted to propose to Clarke, but he couldn’t stop his friends from butting in and ruining it every time, so here he was at some hoity toity restaurant just so he could finally get alone time with his girlfriend.

“Clarke,” he stated.

“Yes?” she replied, looking up from her salad.

“When I met you a long time ago, I had no idea tha-”

“Bellamy, when are we going to get engaged? Don’t you want to marry me?” she blurted, her fork slamming down on the table. Bellamy wanted to explode, here he was, in the act of  _proposing_ , and his own girlfriend ruined it for him.

“I have been trying to propose to you for two months.  _Two months_. But every single time I’m about to do it one of our stupid friends gets in the way and ruins it. Jasper and Monty eating out food, Octavia using up all the gas, all of our friends making out with each other or running into our room. And then finally I decide to do it simple, at a restaurant, there’s no way anyone could mess  _that_  up, but  _no_. My beautiful, stubborn girlfriend finds a way to mess that up too, my  _God_ ,” he rumbled out, the words flying across the table and hitting Clarke.

At some point her mouth had fallen open, and her eyes widened with each burst of his words. “Yes?” she replied sheepishly.

“Yes?” he questioned back.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answered. Bellamy burst into laughter, Clarke following shortly after. It hadn’t been exactly what he was expecting, but he figured he got the same end result anyway. He grabbed the ring from his pocket, pushing it onto her finger. 

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with Clarke…and all of their insane friends.


	20. that one where they meet at the park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: bellarke + "you were sitting on the bench near me in the park and you forgot your sketchbook and hey is that drawing supposed to be me?"

“Shit,” Clarke remarked, shoving the last bite of her bagel into her mouth and grabbing her purse from the bench. She was going to be late meeting up with her mother if she didn’t book it across town; she knew she shouldn’t have ever told her she could make it, but that was more because she simply didn’t want to go to lunch with her mom and her new husband then fear of not being able to get there in time. Kane was nice enough, sure, but she couldn’t stand her mom’s nitpicking.

“Hey!” a voice called from behind her. Clarke kept moving forward, pulling her coat a little tighter around her as a breeze passed by. A hand jerked her backwards, grabbing soundly on her upper arm. “Hey, you left this on the bench.”

Clarke turned toward the voice, her body tightening as she noticed who it was. His dark hair flopped into his eyes as he smiled politely at her. “Thanks,” she replied as she noticed the sketchbook he was holding out to her. Smiling softly back in return, feeling some tightness as she tried to remain calm, she hoped with all her heart he hadn’t opened that book. Otherwise, it was basically ensured that he would think she was a crazy stalker and run for the hills as quickly as he could.

“I see you here a lot,” he mentioned. “You’re here most lunches.”

“Yea, uh- yes, I am,” she began, finally reaching out for the sketchbook. As her hand just about clasped on to it, the dark-haired guy across from her she had spent too many lunches staring at let go, leaving the book to clatter to the floor and…open right on a sketch of him.

“Sorry, thought you had- is that me?” he questioned, bending down quickly to grab the book. Clarke tried to stop him, only indecipherable sounds bumbling out of her mouth as she tried to speak, but he moved too fast and smoothly for her to stop him.

“No, definitely not,” she stuttered, trying to reach out for the book but he held it above her head and laughed, smiling widely down at her.

“You have a crush on me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know you!” she exclaimed, stomping her foot and crossing her arms. “You’re making me late.”

“You drew me without even knowing who I am and this isn’t what I’m wearing today so you’ve done it more than once,” he argued back.

“I’m sorry, but you’re weirdly beautiful,” she blurted out, hitting her hand against her forehead after the words spilled out. “I mean, you just have a really good bone structure?”

“I’m sure you say that to all you guys you try to pick up in the park, don’t you?” he joked.

“I promise I won’t do it anymore, can I have it back now?” she sighed, her eyes flickering to her watch. There was no way to get to lunch on time now, which meant she would have to endure even more pestering from her mother.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, smirking after the words had left him. “Just let me know next time, I’ll make sure to pose for you.”

“Will do…” she trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

“Bellamy Blake.”

“Will do, Bellamy,” she spoke sarcastically.

“What, I don’t get to know your name?”

Clarke eyed him suspiciously, before sighing and letting her arms drop. “Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you, Clarke. I’ll be eating lunch here tomorrow, as I’m sure you know from watching me like the creep-”

“Hey!” she exclaimed. Bellamy seemed not to notice. Or care.

“-you are, but if you want to join me, I can’t say I would be opposed.”

“Good bye, Bellamy,” she told him, rolling her eyes.

“See you later, Clarke! Oh! And by the way?” he called, watching her look over her shoulder at him. “I kinda had a crush on you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to prompt me with something or just want to say hello, you can find me on tumblr: [castielscrusade](http://castielscrusade.tumblr.com/)


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